Tom Riddle and Conflicts of Interest
by user1444
Summary: This is based on my interpretation of the Tom Riddle portrayed in Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. I loosely follow the story and facts laid out by HPMOR but I do make a lot of changes, large and small.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes:**

This is **loosely** based on HPMOR's Tom Riddle and the mechanics and facts of the story.

However I elaborate and change known facts as I see fit for the sake of the story. I also borrow facts and details from the original HP series.

 **Chapter One - Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore**

Tom stood in the pitch dark of his private dorm. Having extinguished the glowing torches on the wall of his room, he carefully set his wand on his desk, and then closed his eyes. He deftly navigated around his desk and past his bed into the center of the room. _How many times did I have to practice this dance before I achieved perfection?_ He wondered idly, smiling to himself. The average wizard would never even consider that they may have to fight blind someday; the average wizard was a fool.

The most basic _artificial light_ charm was so easy that Tom didn't even need to say the incantation to brightly light a room, when he held his wand. So there should be no reason to hold his wand. After all, Tom could cast so many basic charms (and even more complicated ones) without a wand or word. He had no idea why this one was giving him so much trouble, but he was perversely glad of the challenge. Eventually he'd figure it out, and in learning he may glean some other valuable insight into magic. Still, such a simple spell should just _come naturally_ to him at this point! It never failed to annoy him, slightly, when he actually had to work to perform magic.

He focused on _intention_ : create a light, contained to this room. He drew up the little bit of his own raw magic that would be needed to cast the spell and let the incantation pass through the back of his mind and echo there. Normally at this point he would wave his wand, and the room would seem to have its own sun, but without it he had to _think_. He mentally shaped his magic around his _intention_. Feeling his magic flowing through him, he guided it into a specific shape: an orb encompassing the _intention_ , then carefully poured just a little extra force into it, to make up for the lack of wand. As he opened his eyes, he forced his body's magic to extend out into the room like a ghastly invisible third arm that held the spell in its fist. The room lit up with a dim green light for a moment or two. Tom could make out the desk across from him. The light faded almost as quickly as it came. The desk disappeared into darkness again.

Tom's brief smile turned down. That had been the same as his previous attempts, green light and all. When he cast it with a wand, it was a brilliant white light. Maybe there was some fundamental difference in this charm's mechanics compared to most other basic charms? There had to be. Well, Tom would figure it out in time; this was a puzzle that must be completed at all costs. Figuring out that small secret behind a basic lighting charm could very well provide the insight to improve a powerful ritual someday. Tom never took any small insight for granted. An obscure fact about one spell here, and observation of another curse there, sometimes that was all it took for a clever wizard to make a connection and use that to revolutionize some other technique...

Tom closed his eyes to try the spell again, but a brief warning flashed in the back of his mind. It was somebody approaching his door, according to his rudimentary room ward. Sighing, Tom flicked his wrist and his wand flew into his hand as if it had always been there. He shifted position, balancing himself with his wand at the ready, drawing up power to cast any number of dangerous curses. He waited a few seconds, fancying that the door would be blasted from the hinges by some arcane magic for a change, before hearing the soft knock of knuckles on wood.

Except it wasn't that soft, was it? It seemed more firm and insistent. He flicked his wrist; his wand disappearing into the holster down his sleeve, then approached the door. Of course it wouldn't be an attack, not in the castle, not now. Yet Tom had vowed to never let bad habits take root, to be disciplined and vigilant at all times. _The most successful attack is one that comes when you aren't expecting it._ Tom opened the door with his left hand while the right hung low ready to be armed with his wand with another flick of the wrist. He already had a rather nasty curse in mind: a quick upward slash of his wand to tear through almost any ward and every bit of flesh which it would be protecting, spattering the castle's ancient walls with a mist...

As he opened the door, he saw a rather large seventh year standing menacingly before him. At least, the young man's posture and body language obviously meant to project danger and evoke fear to the average person. Tom almost smiled - he hadn't even bothered to properly evaluate this student on his "danger scale". In fact, he couldn't even recall the boy's name now that he thought of it. The only thing that seemed weaker than this boy's knowledge of casting was the force behind those spells. _Still, all his obvious incompetence could have been a bluff leading up to this moment... an unlikely attack with overwhelming magic._ Tom refused to let himself be fooled; he pushed that nifty little cutting curse on the top of his mind.

In a flash the youth's demeanour changed. Tom hadn't said a word or made a gesture in the few moments they had been facing each other, but it was obvious the other student felt the raw magic pulsating as they stood there. His magic did that sometimes when he was annoyed or angry, he normally rather liked that effect, despite knowing he eventually had to master it. Using your raw magic like that was supposed to be very advanced, so Tom tended to take it as a good sign when it just happened on its own. The person on the receiving end of this growing feeling of cold relentless magic filling the air never seemed to appreciate the delicacy of it as much as Tom did, alas.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, Riddle." The youth was looking rather tired suddenly.

"Professor Dumbledore has asked me to tell you to come to his office immediately. He stressed to me that this was important. He didn't seem to be in a good mood…" The boy finished his sentence as if he was speaking to his shoes.

"Thank you." Tom waved his hand and dismissed the messenger who was apparently glad to go.

Tom left his room and walked through the common room towards the exit. A few students yet milled about, studying or talking about mundane things. Tom noticed MacNair sitting at a table, his head was down on the wooden table top, and his wand was a foot in front of his face. He stared at the wooden rod, apparently lost in thought.

Tom hated to be interrupted when he was thinking deeply; he had no compunctions whatsoever about interrupting somebody else, however. "You can't empower your wand with your own magic MacNair, trust me, I've tried." He said it sarcastically, but a clever person would take it as a joke rather than an insult, and MacNair was clever. Just how clever the buy was even Tom couldn't say.

MacNair lifted his head, sunken cheeks dominating his face, looked up at Tom as if to speak, but he hesitated.

Tom tried to look friendly, for he had no ill feelings towards MacNair. Quite the contrary, Tom considered him to be one of the least useless students attending this school. Recently he had even considered asking the boy to join his Battle Magic "lessons". For the last year it had simply been Tom and Chang, fighting wand to wand and fist to fist on the edge of the Forbidden Forest near the mountains. Chang was a hard fighter, but Tom could always overwhelm him if he needed to. He needed more opponents, more students...

MacNair was hesitating to speak; Tom's reputation always made people consider before they spoke to him, even his "friends", so he had to encourage the boy with the sunken cheeks to open up.

"What's so interesting about your wand?" Tom asked as he sat down to observe the light brown stick for himself. Perhaps MacNair had some type of thought Tom might be interested in.

MacNair took a moment to figure out how to speak his thoughts.

"Well, I mean, think about it, Tom," he said, snatching the wand and holding it up in front of his own face.

"The magical core that generates a wand's power is generally made from creatures people consider good." MacNair spun his wand around his fingers, back and forth, so precise and quickly it impressed even Tom. "Unicorns, Phoenixes, Veela. The most dangerous creature that I know they use to make wands from is dragons."

MacNair paused, obviously lost in thought. Speaking almost more to himself then to Tom, the boy continued.

"My wand has a dragon heartstring in it. I have to say I've certainly noticed that when I cast fire spells, or more destructive spells, they are much more potent than I would have expected given my own natural ability."

MacNair was on a roll. "What if a person made a wand from say, a hair from a troll?" He paused to consider his own question. "Would their spell casting have more brute strength? Would they be able to adapt to transfiguration more easily?"

Tom couldn't answer these questions; he was ashamed to admit to himself that he had never even considered these things.

MacNair continued, "What if you used, say a piece of a Dementors cloak as your wand core?"

Tom shuddered involuntarily; he took a second to regain his composure before he spoke. "I expect the wand would have some interesting properties."

That much was true, who knows what powers you could wield with the magic of a Dementor?

Tom continued, "However, I would never touch such a wand myself. I also expect that it would degrade and fall to bits within weeks of its creation, no matter how well it was crafted."

Tom felt truly interested in this conversation. MacNair might be onto something with his talk of wands. Tom had never considered looking into wandlore, a terrible oversight in retrospect; there could be powerful secrets there. The problem was there were powerful secrets in every ignored aspect of magic.

MacNair looked at Tom and frowned. "A Dementor was a poor example, I admit."

 _Very poor, but the thought was interesting._

MacNair went on after a moment. "I mean, I know David Monroe has much more magical power then I do, yet my fire spells burn twice as hot as his do." The boy was gaining confidence as he spoke. "Monroe uses a wand with a unicorn hair core, and I've noticed that his spellcasting is quicker and more graceful than you would expect, even given his talent."

Tom glanced over to the corner of the common room where Monroe was sitting in a large chair with a blonde in his lap. He whispered something to her that made her laugh. Tom couldn't help frowning. David Monroe had far too much unjustified confidence in himself. If the boy's bravado started to peak again, Tom would be forced to humble Monroe once more.

MacNair's voice cut into Tom's thoughts. "Do you think that a wizard's magic is more focused and powerful in areas their wands are comfortable in?" He was looking to Tom as though he was asking a question to a professor in class.

Tom considered it for a moment; he had to give MacNair some credit, he might be onto something.

"Your idea certainly seems to make sense, I must admit. However, I think that it will be much more complicated than it may seem on the surface. I suggest you start asking around, find out what type of wands everyone uses. From there try to analyze the types of magic they excel in - there may well be a connection."

Tom paused and tapped his cheek with his finger before he continued. "There are actually a good number of books which mention wandlore in the library. If I were you, I would read those as well." Tom planned to read those books himself at some point now that MacNair had made such an interesting observation.

 _Surely I can find some secret to use to my advantage._

Tom held up his own wand. Phoenix feather. Those birds were supposed to be one of the most powerful creatures on earth. Tom had started mastering wandless magic before he even knew he was a wizard, but once he had a wand he certainly became much more powerful. The core of his wand may help explain his extraordinarily powerful spells, natural skill aside. _Phoenixes come back from death as well._

MacNair hung on Tom's every word. "I kind have been doing that already. You know, finding out who uses what wand, but you're right. I need to get more examples before I can really say for sure. Some of those books would help too; I'll have to visit the library."

Tom was glad he had stopped to chat with MacNair. Not only did he get a new mystery to think about, but Tom's opinion of the boy intelligence solidified once he heard of the boy's theory and saw his desire to look deeper.

Still, it was time to go. "Dumbledore has summoned me for some sort of chastisement, I have to assume. I'm afraid we'll have to continue this later."

The other boy's face was frozen. "Ok Tom, good luck with that old meddler. I hope he goes easy on you."

Tom doubted he needed luck, and he was slightly annoyed, why would the boy care one way or the other? _Try not to be so transparent, please..._

As Tom made his way down the hallway he allowed himself to wonder what this summoning could regard. It was too near the beginning of fifth year for any plot against his fellow students. All the plots from last year were either dead or too well established to be uncovered. Tom guessed he had done more than a few things Dumbledore would disapprove of over the summer, but none of those could possibly have been found out, even by the old meddler.

Tom entered the Transfiguration classroom and walked toward the thick door at the back of the room.

He knocked, a pointless gesture with Dumbledore's wards alerting him to Tom's presence. Oddly enough, Dumbledore was normally at the door and opening it as you reached up to bang on the wood, but not even the knock brought him forth. _Obviously some type of game going on here._ Tom never had to wait to be scolded or praised, whichever the case may be. So clearly this was some new tactic of Dumbledore's. Whatever the old man hoped to accomplish by making Tom wait would fail this time; Tom would be patient and sit here all night. If Tom could actually think of a reason Dumbledore would be especially angry, he may try to start off timid. As far as he could see though there was no reason for that, so Tom would act boldly.

There was no reason for him to stand at attention like a student to be scolded, waiting on Dumbledore while his own legs got tired. He almost took a step toward a desk before he stopped and sneered. _I'm a wizard, not a Muggle, I'd best remember it._ With a wave of his wand, two of the desks slid across the floor and stopped in front of him. He touched the first desk with his wand and focused on a complex Transfiguration. Within moments, the desk was a tall throne almost touching the high ceiling, from which he could look down on the old wizard once he deigned to appear. He admired it for a moment, and then touched his wand to create stairs on the bottom of the throne. This was a new technique Tom had been working on; it took three whole minutes before the Transfiguration of the stairs held. Tom climbed the stairs proudly, glad that the combination of a transfiguration and an illusion enchantment succeeded.

Tom next transfigured the other desk into a large very dramatic looking hourglass, which was much easier work. _If you want to play a game, I'll certainly play with you._ How long the wait ended up could help determine how angry the man was. Really, most of the time Tom got away with his "schemes" as Dumbledore called them, by playing the innocent and misunderstood student, or setting up somebody else to take the blame. If Dumbledore was already trying to send messages, this would have to be a different type of conversation than their usual cryptic yet apparently friendly ones.

Tom also considered that this might be nothing bad at all. Dumbledore could be too strange to predict, it was even possible Tom was here to be praised for something, but he doubted it. Why make him wait in that case? No, this seemed like a "stern lecture". He would know when he saw the man, if it was some trivial matter the old meddler would likely be briefly impressed at the detail in Tom's Transfigurations, and then proceed to laugh off the subtle messages and instead focus on the new technique Tom had just used to weave the stairs into a flowing, yet steady stream of black iron. Tom specifically crafted it especially to grab the man's attention. Normally nothing pleased him, but hopefully it would change their first interaction from a negative to a positive right from the start as well. _Why not play on the man's interests._

Transfiguration was one of the old man's passions, and as it happened; Tom was also very interested in this subject himself. It was unbelievably useful, and Tom had made a point to excel with this particular magic. A love of learning was something Tom had in common with the old man. Many times Tom had come to this office, to ask about a certain fundamental principle of a certain magic, or run a new theory past him and learn from the ancient wizard. Dumbledore would actually sit with him and appear to consider Tom's ideas as though they came from an equal. Tom tried to use these personal lessons to build the man's trust and slowly learn his potent magics. Any secrets he could squeeze out of the wise old man would be beneficial, though he had learned nothing of any true potency from Dumbledore. Even his most subtle and humble attempts came to nothing.

More importantly, Tom was trying to build trust so he could earn a place among the staff one day. It was working, though not nearly as well as Tom had thought it would. There was no denying that the man had some level of trust and respect for Tom, at least when it came to his competence in Transfiguration, but that wouldn't be enough. The old wizard had to be in awe at Tom's skill on some level, or he wouldn't have allowed him to learn of the existence of Dumbledore's "Top Secret High Magic Transfiguration Laboratory". Tom was actually allowed inside to learn from the man and try his own experiments on a few occasions. Other professors had told him that he was the first student to even know of that room's existence. However, Tom hadn't been asked to join the man in his private room in quite some time.

Really, Tom Riddle did not like Albus Dumbledore. The man had a strange way of thinking that Tom couldn't agree with. He did however respect him as a powerful and competent wizard. Not to mention, Tom not being stupid, he also had a healthy level of fear of a man capable of wielding the types and level of magic Dumbledore could.

Dumbledore taught Transfiguration classes and Tom had to admit that as far as professors went, Dumbledore was excellent. His Transfiguration classes were actually entertaining and even insightful on occasion. Unlike most of the other professors, Dumbledore wouldn't frown on him trying to disprove something from the book. Nor would the old man try to limit Tom to the standard curriculum. If he was quite capable of the day's lesson, he was free to try a more advanced procedure and go practice in the corner. Dumbledore would even come over to give him advice from time to time. Tom absolutely disliked the old man, but couldn't deny that he respected him. He felt that Dumbledore held Tom in a similar regard.

Dumbledore would never dare try to hinder somebody's potential and could only respect the ambition and aptitude he showed at his age. _But Dumbledore is always suspicious of him, always assuming the worst._ The man was usually right, to be fair; Tom did get into some shady business, but Dumbledore shouldn't be able to see though the humble student facade Tom put on. Because of this, Tom still wasn't fully sure of the dynamics of this relationship. The old man once spent so much time trying to "advise" Tom. Perhaps it was because he truly respected the potential and wanted to be his mentor. That would explain why he wanted to try to take Tom off of the "dark path" he had once said Tom was apparently on. He had tried, but Tom didn't much care what anyone considered "dark." There were too many "dark" spells which were utterly useful in regular situations, Tom knew.

Another consideration was that the man may have a better insight into Tom's real thoughts and ideas than he had ever suspected. In that case, the "Friendly lessons and chats" would be Dumbledore's way of keeping an eye on Tom or even trying to keep him in check. Tom was unsure - probably a little of both of those options, probably a third Tom would never understand. Dumbledore was a man who was very hard to read.

The door to the back office opened finally and the old man was standing there. He had a disappointed frown on his face - he was clearly annoyed, and Tom was about to receive a stern talking-to for some reason. Dumbledore's slight anger pushed his natural magic to take shape and radiate off the man, giving the atmosphere a hot tingling feeling. Most children would be cowering at this building pressure in the room, but Tom knew it merely meant Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, no news there.

Tom had learned you had to do something truly terrible to make Dumbledore truly angry. He had never seen the legendary "Angry Albus Dumbledore" but he had heard of the intensity of it. Tom could believe it was a sight to behold. _If Dumbledore projects this much power when he's displeased, the magic must be absolutely tangible when the man gets furious._ Tom imagined Dumbledore could easily walk through most wards as if they were air in the right situation, if he could radiate that much raw magic.

With a quick gesture from Dumbledore's wand, Tom's transfigurations were undone, and he felt himself floated gently down to the ground in order to prevent the five-foot fall. Tom hated that. _So condescending; does he think me a child incapable of catching myself with my own magic?_

That was a message too as far as he could tell. Normally, Dumbledore at least started off amiable and friendly in their talks even if he suspected Tom of some "mischief". Normally it would first, be a lame attempt at humor and light chitchat, while Dumbledore tried to feel him out. This time the Professor seemed more than merely annoyed with Tom, and he was going to get straight to the point, whatever that may be. _I really can't imagine what he thinks I've done, why is he acting so differently this time?_ As Tom was being led into the inner office, he thought frantically about which plots could possibly be discovered.

Suddenly Tom realized what this could be about. It had been at least a week since he had last made the house elves confess if they had betrayed him or not. That laziness might have cost him something here; Tom supposed he would find out.

Dumbledore's personal office was a place of great power even within this ancient magic castle. The large oak door alone would intimidate to a lesser person. It radiated power; Tom could easily detect some four to six wards around the office on any given day, and feel the edges of dozens more, so it was safe to say there were many more he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Tom was quite sure he would be unable to break through that door if he had to, even using the most potent magic currently available to him would probably not even scratch the wood. The door slammed behind him as he walked into the office itself, the lock clicked loudly despite there being no actual lock or knob for that matter. Tom made it across the room and to his chair first. He tried to sit down but there was an invisible barrier around the chair and he couldn't touch it; his hand was stopped dead by an invisible wall as he made to grab the back of the chair.

Dumbledore was across the room in a few long strides and took a seat in his own chair. Only after Dumbledore was seated did Tom feel the ward on the chair dissipate. The man wasn't even trying to be subtle; Tom disliked this sudden change in attitude, it was unexpected and probably unnecessary. As Tom sat he noticed the old man had his wand sitting out on the desk. It was not pointing directly at Tom but in his general direction, inches from the powerful wizard's grasp. There could be another message there - but knowing Dumbledore it could be anything. "If you can snatch it and overtake me, I will not oppose you." Perhaps, but that really did not seem likely. _And of course there could be no message there at all; it could be that's just where the man keeps it while sitting, easy enough to summon to hand instantly._ After four full years as a Slytherin, Tom instantly tended to try and find the hidden meaning in every action a person made in his presence, but with Dumbledore he usually failed.

Dumbledore looked at him, his normally twinkling eyes now piercing blue ice. Tom knew full well what that meant, and he simply couldn't allow it. He had taken measures to learn how to protect his mind, in addition to how to get past other people's barriers and search their thoughts.

Dumbledore must have picked up on Tom's Occlumency training at some point however. Tom had thought he had been extraordinarily subtle about it, Dumbledore must be good. Tom hadn't wanted the man to know that he was on his way to becoming a perfect Occlumens. He had planned to use Dumbledore's own legilimency against him. Tom would have fed him an innocent but misunderstood Tom Riddle, a Tom Riddle whose actions are filled with good intentions regardless of the results. It was one of the ways he planned to gain the man's trust. But Tom must have overestimated his own ability and given the game away. Those blue eyes no longer tried to pierce Tom's mind. Dumbledore must now know Tom was hiding his true thoughts from him and decided to not bother trying any longer. If Dumbledore had really discovered Tom's barriers there was a certain trust that would always be broken.

"Tell me, Mister Riddle," Dumbledore said with no hint of his normal cheer, "what exactly have you done to the house elves?"

Tom had decided to adapt his answers to Dumbledore's reactions rather than go in with a set story. He'd put an innocent and ignorant face on, then replied, "Why, nothing sir. Nothing really, I've had them tend to a few extra tasks but that is what they live for sir. I've become friends with the elf which tends to my room, and he almost insisted on helping me more."

Dumbledore was not moved. "I know it goes further than that, Mister Riddle. You have somehow hoodwinked them all into your service." Dumbledore was growing sterner by the moment. "I'll have you know that I personally consider the elves to be esteemed Hogwarts staff as much as myself. I do not take kindly to students playing games with them for their own amusement."

Dumbledore paused for a moment. "Even the Headmaster himself was distressed to learn of the abuse the house elves were suffering."

Dumbledore was starting to lose steam. "The Headmaster may not feel as strongly about it as I do."

Dumbledore looked annoyed at that, but continued with a new found passion. "I will certainly see to it that he takes it as seriously as it should be taken though."

Dumbledore was looking at Tom now with a hint of disgust on his face. "I do not understand your true purpose for rallying the elves under your control." Dumbledore looked at Tom with his head tilted sideways in confusion and paused before continuing.

"Mister Riddle, the complexity of your plots is getting to the point that I can leave no loopholes for you. Perhaps this is all a mistake on my part, but it seems it could possibly be something much greater which requires my attention."

Tom took that as a compliment and a challenge, though he hid his smile behind his mask.

"There will be an announcement to the school soon." Dumbledore said it firmly and let it hang before going on. "As much as it pains me, I will be personally seeing to it that the entire house elf management system is redesigned."

Tom was curious about this; he could surely find a way around a redesign if he wanted to. Dumbledore was looking far less enthusiastic than he had been before when he spoke again.

"These changes will hurt people Tom. You say you have made friends with your elf, well others have as well and they will be hurt."

Dumbledore looked at Tom hard. Tom did his best to pretend that meant something.

"Mister Riddle, you may not have any affection for lesser beings, no matter what you claim, but other students do. Friendships will die because of whatever plot you were working on, that is a sad thing, Tom."

Dumbledore looked like he meant it, though Tom didn't see how that was sad in that context. It was certainly a shame his plot had been foiled so early, that was slightly sad.

Tom spent many late nights in his private dorm, a privilege only granted to him because he stayed at Hogwarts all year and it just made sense for a top student living at school to have their own quarters. He stayed up late reading books or practicing spells when most of the castle slept. As a result of his study he had become "friendly" with the house elf that goes by the name "Truuey."

Truuey was assigned to Tom's personal chamber. He was to keep it fresh and clean, and see to any small needs Tom may have. Tom asked who had assigned him to his particular room and the elf told him nobody assigned anything. The elves just knew what needed to be done and came to mutual agreements on the assigning of tasks.

From there Tom had reasoned with the elf that since he was a Hogwarts servant bound particularly to Tom's service it only made sense if the elf followed his explicit orders. It didn't take much convincing; the house elves weren't very intelligent creatures. Once Tom had sold that idea to the elf, he also reasoned with the creature that things would be more efficiently run if there was a "Head House Elf". An elf that delegated responsibilities and punishments to all the other elves, if it could be done in an intelligent and organized way it would only help the castle run better. Tom compared it to the way wizards do things although he disagreed wizards ran anything properly, and the elf seemed to like the idea after a little coaxing and manipulating.

It only took a few days, and a few motivational speeches and tips for controlling underlings until Truuey was more or less the dictator that all the other house elves followed with absolute loyalty. House elves were surprisingly agreeable even given their reputation. It only took a week and a half for them to accept and adapt to a global change in an 800 year old system. That was impressive even by Tom's ridiculously high standards. He had known the whole setup was first configured by none other than Helga Hufflepuff and it had probably never changed since implemented. He had foolishly assumed she couldn't be as dim as the stories made her seem but all his experience in the castle had made it obvious that the founders should have reviewed her ideas before they engraved them into the castles system. Surely Dumbledore would change things in time when he came into power, but for now it was almost too easy for Tom to game the systems.

Tom had taken time to build his relationship with the elf which served him, and once Truuey was absolutely loyal to Tom he basically had total control of the entire Hogwarts house elf faction. Their strange magical constrictions made it easy for Tom to program in a near unbeatable system of silence. It could still be beaten, but only by the headmaster. The elves bound to Hogwarts had to answer to the Headmaster above all, regardless of other vows or constrictions. Tom had found that you could trick them into sorts of vows of silence however. Only if asked specific questions by the Headmaster could the elf answer those questions, and even then they had to use very specific answers providing no extra detail. House elf magic was rather odd and specific, useful as well.

So far Tom had only been giving commands that would cause general confusion and disorder on a small scale, to further particular plots. Sometimes he would just generally use the elves' covert skills to harass the people he disliked. Last week Tom had the elves remove the bedding from three different people's beds and replace it with the itchy type no one could be comfortable in. Building a team of minions inside the castle took time, he had to start small and go unnoticed. _Apparently I've failed at going unnoticed._

Dumbledore broke him out of thought, "Tom, I demand you stop any and all interaction with the house elves from here on out. This is not negotiable. If you have a certain need my door is always open to you, and I can help you with nearly anything. You are, under no circumstances, to issue orders of any type to any of the elves. You shall not direct other students to manipulate the elves either, nor shall you twist my words in any way to find a hole you can slip through. Have I made myself clear on this matter?" Dumbledore stared at him for a long moment.

"Yes sir." Tom forced out, very annoyed about this. There was a great deal of power to be had in the school if you could wield the house elves cleverly. Surely he could find a way around whatever restrictions Dumbledore forced Headmaster Dippet to put into effect... but there were more important things to focus on. The elves were an acceptable loss by Tom's standards.

"I understand Professor, it was probably wrong of me to ask them to take on even more work on top of everything else they have to do." Tom paused to look down at the desk as though he was ashamed, as he had seen others do.

He then looked up and continued with the shame gone from his face and an indignant stare took its place. Tom made sure to put force into his words when he spoke. "I simply had them doing things like fetching materials for experiments or sending messages to people in my study groups. Perhaps have them bringing me food at odd hours while I study. That type of thing. That is what they are in the school for Professor, is it not? They haven't complained to me at all."

Dumbledore's face was impossible to read as he spoke. "That is more or less their job Tom; however they are not any student's slave. They would not complain if you asked them to break stones using muggle hammers all day either, it's their nature."

Tom tried to look taken aback at the word, "Slave sir? Tuuey was my friend." Tom looked away from Dumbledore, toward one of the odd objects on the shelf as he let the comment sink in.

Dumbledore looked halfway satisfied with that answer; Tom had put enough "emotion" behind the word friend to cause a brief flash of doubt cross through the old wizard's eyes. However Tom wasn't convinced this was the end of matter.

"You may go then Tom, it is getting late." The powerful door behind him clicked again and swung open. Apparently it was the end of it, at least the end of the conversation. Dumbledore would work tirelessly against this plot from every angle after this.

However if that was all Dumbledore had to say on the matter, then Tom was fairly sure his complex set of commands and vows had prevented the old man from learning anything other than his involvement in using extra house elves to help him. Tom was also sure Headmaster Dippet wouldn't have pressed the issue too hard when questioning them for Dumbledore.

Tom got up and started to walk out and as he did he heard Professor Dumbledore speak from behind him in a softer voice.

"I did like the extra detail you put into the stairs on your throne by the way. It looked very complicated, and extremely comfortable."

Tom looked back and the man had regained just a little of his regular cheeriness. Tom simply nodded at him and walked out as a scolded student should.

As he headed back to his dorm he reflected on the loss. An army of unseen minions running around the school at night doing his bidding was certainly a huge loss. He could have slowly over the years used the elves as one of many factors in completely taking over the school. As far as he understood once the elves developed a deep enough pattern of following his specific orders as a "master" they would be bond to him nearly as much as the Headmaster.

 _There would be pretty much nothing they wouldn't have done in my service if I could trick them into thinking they were accomplishing something else, once the situation got to that point. What did I fail to consider? I missed something if it went wrong so quickly._

Tom wasn't used to a thought-out plan coming undone so quickly and spectacularly. He had taken care to use specific words and phrases while talking to Tuuey, and the elf would have repeated him exactly to the underlings which were similarly bound. It would have taken a very specific line of questioning from the lazy headmaster himself for them to reveal they were taking orders from Tom.

Tom thought about Dumbledore's involvement. He knew that Dumbledore not only spoke with the Merfolk and Centaurs, but took pleasure in it. The old man had to translate for the Headmaster if there were ever problems in the lake or forest. Tom had naturally assumed Dumbledore would speak with the cleaning and cooking "staff" as well but there was no reason the old meddler should have started pressing the Headmaster to ask the right questions. Questions like, "Did Tom Riddle take you into his service, Tuuey?" Or perhaps, "Did Tom Riddle ask you to take over the kitchen, Tuuey?" A very specific line of questioning would be the only way to confirm anything Tom had done with them.

Thinking it over, in retrospect the reformation was rather fast. Tom should have played it out for a year or two before taking total control. He should have used few extra elves now, a few more to his service a few months later and so on. That would have probably gone unseen. Tom had been overambitious and started wielding his elves far too hard too soon. It must have been obvious enough to take note of a plot if somebody was paying attention. Tom hadn't even thought that anybody would glance in that direction; since they were just elves doing what appeared to be work. Dumbledore's bizarre empathy towards the creatures might have been his undoing here; he hadn't considered that at all. _Sure Dumbledore might speak with a few from time to time, but that couldn't reveal any plot._

The house elves were acting generally the same as they usually do. They were always cheery and ready for work. Perhaps some were a little tired and overworked, but Tom would never take one out of regular rotation and disrupt regular tasks, which could be noticed by somebody. Tom would use the ones who were currently allotted their required resting time when he needed them, so as to not attract attention. Tom would never have considered somebody would actually take notice of the lowly creatures. _Who would have noticed the subtle decrease in their well-being? Ridiculous, they're elves._ They had their uses but they didn't warrant that type of compassion. Tom had to wonder how exactly the mind of Albus Dumbledore worked if he could relate to an _elf_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – Tom Riddle and David Monroe**

Tom woke up two hours earlier than everybody else, as usual.

He was dressed, through the common room, and down the hall while the castle still slept. The rest of the students would try to get those extra hours of rest before they had to face classes. Tom thought that foolish. _A wizard should be awake and alert as often as possible._

Tom only slept for about three or four hours a night, that being sufficient time for his well of magic to replenish itself after even an especially hard day. Besides, he had no fear of classes, unlike most other students. He did have to drudge through the boring lessons just as much as anybody else, but he had entirely different reasons.

Tom spent the summers here at Hogwarts; he was in the castle all year long, except when he would slip out into the wizarding or muggle world. Hogwarts was his home.

As a result of his yearlong access to the Hogwarts library, he knew almost every spell that they would teach during a student's seven years here. With that knowledge, in combination with his unlimited ability to cast spells all year long, and the vast castle grounds upon which to truly let loose, he had become intimately knowledgeable and practiced with magic.

The extensive training and practice, along with his "extra-curricular training" had made him the most powerful student in the entire school, despite only a fifth year. Tom even suspected only a handful of teachers could overcome him now - when he was at his best.

The Ministry-mandated classes were below him most of the time, especially Charms. Tom hated Charms class with a passion. His professor was utterly unreasonable and incompetent. Half of the time he was trying to teach some complicated wand work and precise pronunciation from the book, which sometimes took two to three classes to learn.

Tom was of the opinion that all that effort and time to cast a charm was asking to be killed in combat. He had been able to understand the basics of wandless magic within his first year at Hogwarts. Tom had practiced hard here, and even at the orphanage before he actually knew what magic was, and what he was capable of; once he had a wand, he seemed not to need it nearly as much as the other students.

 _Just about any charm can be cast without a wand, and sometimes without a word if you know how to do it._

Professor Dedalus didn't even understand the concept, despite Tom trying to teach him the basic principles of it. The man was hopeless; he could only do the most basic wandless magic, so he always used his wand. He would look through the books and practice waving his wand around in a specific pattern while making his tongue dance around some complicated phrase. Worse, he insisted on forcing these bad habits onto his students, when instead he should be trying to make his students better than him.

Tom had pointed out many times that if the standard curriculum could be ignored for a while and wizards could be taught the fundamentals of those charms before the charms themselves… Yet the Professor wouldn't hear of such a thing. If it didn't come from a Ministry approved book, the Professor wouldn't hear of it.

It was enough to make Tom consider publishing his own book, "Magic, How It Was Intended," and then bribing somebody at the Ministry to stamp it and put it on the mandatory reading list.

Still, Tom forced himself to play along in class, as much as he begrudged it. _Tom Riddle is a Good Student, and a Good Student Learns these Complicated gestures and Incantations._ Magic just came so naturally to him at this point that it was more a waste of his time than a challenge. He had considered trying to win the House Cup just by racking up points from being the quickest to learn new spells in class all the time. Unfortunately, the only real competition would be David Monroe, who was in the same house anyway.

 _If he and I both tried to outdo each other with house points, Slytherin would set an all-time record. But I can accomplish that_ _perfectly fine without Monroe's help..._

"David Monroe," Tom muttered the name, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice. The boy was strong, and he knew a lot of the basics behind magic, the way to truly use his powers. He was far too confident for his own good, however. He was not nearly as intuitive or natural with his magic as he liked to believe, and Tom hated false confidence.

Even worse was Monroe was ignorant of his stupidity. He honestly believed he was the smartest student in the school; he loved to flash that in everybody's face. It was if he was trying to say _I'm better then you, I'm highborn, I'm powerful, and I can do what I like._

Tom was bitter over the fact that, more often than not, at least those last three things were fact.

Monroe got away with so many things that Tom would never dare to try. The boy was a bully for one, constantly challenging students to duels until they agreed or ran off. Usually, he would simply pick on the younger and weaker students, attacking them without even giving them a chance to fight back (which Tom at least agreed with as a fighting tactic, but Monroe's choice of opponents was pathetic, as was claiming these fights as duels).

Monroe didn't bother to make it a learning opportunity either; he used his bullying as a chance to show how great he thought he was, simply because he could. Tom just couldn't respect the boy on any level. _He's far too entitled for his own good. I'll show him what a bully really is, next time I see him picking on third-years..._

Tom shook his head in disgust as though he was trying to get a fly off of his face - and the thought of David Monroe out of his head.

As usual during this time of day - during almost any free time - Tom headed to the library. There was much power to be had in knowledge, as long as you could figure out a way to use every single obscure nugget to your own advantage. Nothing in particular he wanted to research today, so he would continue down the list of 129 books he had found to mention the Hogwarts castle, magical architecture, hidden and/or warded rooms, or Salazar Slytherin himself.

Tom had been down the list twice already, but his memory not being eidetic, he read more carefully every time. _There must be something to learn from here._ He had already found half a dozen serious mentions of Salazar's "Chamber of Secrets". Where there was that much smoke, there was at least an ember, Tom was certain. There were often mentions of a "monster" in the tales of this chamber. It was quite clear to Tom that if any of this was true, the monster would be some type of snake.

On his first day at Hogwarts, after the Sorting Hat had called "Slytherin," he had heard the message " _If you would sseek my ssecrets, sspeak with my ssnake…_ " Tom had understood it was in another language; garden snakes were his closest friends as a young child. That had been one of the many reasons he was bullied for so long. Nobody believed he could converse with the serpents, not until that one night…

When he heard that secret message under the hat, a message which would have come out as a dull unremarkable hiss to anybody else, he knew it was meant for him. He had already read as much about the wizarding world as he could in the short time between Dumbledore's visit and his sorting, including the obvious Hogwarts, A History. He first learned of the so-called "Chamber of Secrets" in that book. Not very much, and what was written in that book sounded more like fantasy than fact, but over the years Tom had accumulated enough information on the subject to take it seriously.

If legend was true, it had in fact been opened once before, and had released "the horror within". That was the most specific information that he had found, a single paragraph in an old scroll vaguely hinting at an incident at Hogwarts 400 years ago, which had thence been covered up.

Tom was the Heir to Slytherin, and whatever "secrets" lie in the chamber were his right and he meant to claim that right.

 _Assuming this isn't a massive hoax._

Tom was the most powerful and cunning Slytherin in ages, and he could speak with snakes. This wasn't even a question in his mind. This chamber was his birthright - if it existed.

He continued down the empty hallway. The only person he encountered on his way to the library was the grotesquely large oaf, Hagrid. The Gryffindor was clearly distressed about something, but Tom had no interest in the early morning plots and schemes of a halfwit. _Likely trying to sneak an extra two stone of beef out of the kitchens again. What a pig._ Tom then smiled; now that the elves were supposedly on lockdown, the oaf would have some trouble getting that extra food for himself.

Tom arrived at the library door. It was locked and closed at this time, to most students, but being one of maybe a dozen students who had access to the library wards, he could enter any time he liked. The Headmaster granted Tom almost every privilege he wished for. _So much easier to fool than Dumbledore, a shame Dippet talks of retiring._

Tom waved his wand inches away from the door, and he heard the clicking sound of the ward accepting him as somebody with authorization to enter. Tom had observed that almost all basic magical locks make a clicking sound, as if they were a muggle lock for some reason. Tom considered that odd. The basic spells should have been around far longer than the muggle locks they sounded like.

As soon as he stepped through the door it closed behind him, as these were not regular library hours, and the room was sealed again. Tom made his way to the back and found the last book he had been reading, a large hardcover text called The Brains of Bricks. The last time he read it, he felt it was boring, insightful perhaps if you wanted to be an architect, but absolutely unhelpful in finding a secret chamber. Still, he planned to read it again and try to take meaning from every last line. _It's easy to overlook a single line which could be important later; some misunderstood phrase holding the key to everything…_

Tom had just lifted the book from the shelf when he saw something out of the corner of his eye, something he likely wasn't meant to see.

 _Let's play along._ He continued to take the book from the shelf, held it up, faked interest in the design on the cover, and started to make his way towards a table without ever directly looking in the corner. However, the entire time Tom was keeping his true focus on the distortion and ripples in the air that held a subtle feeling of magic, which was coming from the dark corner fifteen feet away.

 _Is this truly a coincidence?_ Tom asked himself. _There have been many times that I've thought of someone specific, only to encounter them shortly after. Some kind of latent gift of prophecy?_

Tom continued to pretend to be blind to the hidden wizard in the corner as he sat down at the desk. He took his time, setting the book down, opening it, pretending to look for a specific page. When he found his random page, he reached over to the magical lamp across the table for more light to read by.

As Tom extended his fingers towards the lamp he flicked his wrist.

He jumped upright to a balanced position instantly, knocking his chair over. He held his weight on his rear foot, his magic already taking shape inside him.

Tom had his wand trained directly at the center mass of the flickering shadow of David Monroe.

The boy stood in the corner under a poor invisibility charm. Although the fact that Monroe could manage any type of Disillusionment already was impressive, Tom had to admit; he hadn't thought the boy was strong enough to sustain that spell, even in this poor form.

"If I allow you to have a future… I would suggest planning your ambushes more thoroughly," Tom said calmly, even as he became annoyed, almost automatic around this boy. Monroe would never have had time to react if this was a true ambush, which he doubted it was, but he kept his guard up all the same, wand steady in his well-practiced hand.

Tom continued to lecture the semi invisible boy. "For Merlin's sake, at least have your wand in hand once in position. If you have to draw it at the last moment, all kinds of terrible things can go wrong." Tom's tone was dry as it was cold. He unfortunately couldn't hurt Monroe here to teach him a lesson.

The other boy knew it too. "I could arrange some type of "accident"…

Tom clicked his tongue at the amateur; it did no good to come up with plots on the spot. Still, a sneak attack would have been almost interesting, but a poor sneak attack was annoying. _The school's "golden boy" is astonishingly incompetent. How Monroe got his reputation..._

"David Monroe can out-duel anybody in school!" Tom had heard it said in the hallways; he'd just had to laugh at that.

Monroe broke his apparently newly-learned Disillusionment, and his form appeared clearly- his hands open and up, a smug confident smile on his face. "You got me, Riddle." Monroe said with all the calm arrogance in the world.

He strode over, ignoring the wand trained at his heart, and looked at the book Tom was reading. Tom shifted position and started to build a shield, mentally, without recourse to his wand. He was ready to activate it without a word. Monroe obviously felt the magic rising in the air, but he ignored it and read the title of Tom's book out loud.

"The Brains of Bricks, hmm… I always knew you would go into some obscure line of work after school. I never took you for an architect, though. You seem more a civil servant to me." Monroe looked up at Tom and smiled. Tom wasn't as amused.

Referring to him as any type of "servant" was unacceptable. If Tom didn't need to keep his "excellent, yet misunderstood student" act going he would curse this fool into seven flaming pieces for that comment. Instead, he decided to play along. "But David, surely you've read a book or two on magical construction? If your home library has 5000 books and you've read every one of them, I mean..."

Monroe claimed to be the most well-read wizard alive, but it was obvious to Tom that it was a lie. Not that he truly thought the Monroe library was less than five thousand books, but anybody who read that much about magic would have been able to wipe the floor with him, overwhelming his best attacks with incomprehensible magic.

However, that was not at all what had happened, that morning when Monroe had tried to force Tom into a type of "dominance contest" in a long-abandoned shortcut to the library. He'd appeared in Tom's path and asked him if he wanted to engage in a "friendly duel", to test each other out. Tom, of course, did not "duel," and nothing he did to Monroe could be considered friendly. He also did not need to test himself against the likes of Monroe; he had fought much stronger opponents. So Tom had declined and turned to walk away, fully expecting an attack anyways.

It came in the form of a howling orange light which Tom only saw for a moment as he turned to brush it aside.

Tom had proceeded to unleash a blistering volley of multi-colored curses and hexes at Monroe. The boy had been foolish enough to use a weak spell as his first attack; he had to be taught a lesson in what surprise attacks ought to be.

David Monroe had been fast, graceful and powerful, much more than the average student, but that was still just barely enough to deflect or dodge Tom's attacks. He certainly had no time or energy to go on the offensive properly; every spell he'd thrown at Tom had been cast aside, harmlessly absorbed by the castle's walls.

After a few minutes of flashing light of every color of the rainbow, bizarre unearthly noises, and other things which were beyond the senses, Monroe had breathlessly yielded.

Normally Tom wouldn't accept a yielding opponent - _just one more person with a grudge to look out for in the future_ \- however, as he couldn't very well kill Monroe right there in the hallway, he had simply walked away as Monroe struggled to his knees and leaned against a wall. Breaking him down like that had taken Tom far more effort than he would have liked; he was nearly out of breath by the end himself, but he had managed to keep his inhalations calm and steady.

Monroe _was_ powerful, but his fighting techniques were poor. He was obviously not a natural warrior like Tom, and never would be. The boy was still a good deal weaker than Tom as well; no matter what Monroe claimed, Tom's well of power was much deeper.

Tom had absolutely put Monroe in place at the start of the year with that so-called duel, and from there Monroe had toned down his arrogance to a nearly-tolerable level. It had been growing again slowly however, and it angered Tom that the boy felt like he could act so smug again in private now. After all the subtle lessons Tom had tried to teach Monroe over the years, it was an utter mystery why the boy was still so sure of himself in Tom's presence.

Even now, Monroe spoke with in that cocky tone of voice. "Well. I honestly expect a half-decent Auror out of you one day. You can be head of the DMLE when I'm Minister for Magic. I'd even be sure to give you extra vacation days, Tom, on account of our friendship." He gave Tom what must have been thought of as a vote-winning smile, which once again Tom failed to return.

 _Of course. Monroe is ambitious, but with no ambition. He'll probably actually become the Minister for Magic, but he'll never be a truly great wizard, a legendary figure._

Monroe looked Tom in the eyes, which no longer had any hint of playfulness. "Tell me, what are you truly reading about? What secret do you hope to extract from this book?" He continued to peer into Tom's eyes, and suddenly Tom could feel his mental barriers being probed ever so slightly, a wet noodle rubbing against a steel wall. _David Monroe is just clever enough to be a danger to himself._

It was one thing for Albus Dumbledore to try and peek into his mind, it was another matter altogether if David Monroe thought he had that right, or the ability.

Tom stared back into David Monroe' eyes, and applied his own Legilimency, harder than he had ever tried.

The effect caused a feedback loop of Monroe reading Tom's thoughts as he read Monroe's mind. Tom was prepared for this mental gridlock, Monroe was not.

Monroe stumbled backwards and closed his eyes while rubbing his forehead. "What on earth was that?"

Tom smiled, "That's part of what happens when you try Legilimancy on Tom Riddle." Monroe frowned but didn't say anything else; he just kept glancing at Tom's book.

 _One day, I will find you, in true privacy, I swear it. I'll show you that being born into power does not make you powerful, that confidence means nothing if you cannot back it up..._

For the time being, Tom simply smiled dryly at the boy and snatched his book back with reflexes so quick that a brief look of shock passed across the other's face as the book disappeared from his hand. Tom walked over ten yards away to sit in a chair; he put his arm on the armrest, wand still in hand as a message of readiness for combat. Monroe paid no heed, simply striding out of the library and on his way.

Tom picked up where he left off in "The Brains of Bricks."

"The fundamental structure of a building crafted with high wizardry will never change, even though the chambers themselves may. Such systems as water piping and automatic lighting cannot be altered after the enchantments are finalized. Lesser enchantments can be applied, but those spells will not hold onto the original design, and they will require regular upkeep."

Tom arrived in the Great Hall a few minutes before breakfast was supposed to be served.

There was some type of commotion among the students, something to do with children being scared in the night. Having long since lost his appetite for scaring children, he looked down at the plates, waiting for the moment food would appear. _Let's see, today's the odd sausages, with the strange blue bits._ Every detection charm he had cast on them had revealed nothing, but there was something clearly magical about them.

The food did not appear on time.

After a moment, Tom looked toward the head table, where Headmaster Dippet was beginning to stand. The man raised his wand and several loud popping sounds broke through the babble of talk in the hall.

"I just have a short announcement before breakfast today." He coughed, but a few whispers could still be heard from students. "Due to recent events, students are no longer permitted to interact with house elves personally, or in any way for that matter." Headmaster Dippet said it quickly and simply before taking his seat again.

Professor Dumbledore now stood, and the room finally went still. The old wizard had a very grave look on his face as he spoke. "I feel I must elaborate a little. This was truly a difficult decision to make, but it is one we feel is in the school's best interests. I am truly sorry for any friendships that may be hurt from this decision."

The man paused to let it sink in. "However, for the time being, it is in everybody's best interest that the elf staff and the student population do not interact. Trust me, students, you are helping the elves by ignoring them from this point."

There was muttering around the crowd now. Tom was curious, just how many people were truly friends with the elves?

Dumbledore went on, his voice even sadder. "Please, do not try to speak with any elf you are friendly with. They are bound to ignore you; it is no fault of your own, and I do not want you to think of it that way." Staring at the silverware rather than the mass of students, his mood seemed to suddenly brighten. "Now let us move onto more pleasant matters. Such as breakfast!"

As Dumbledore said the word, the food appeared on the tables. Tom looked around for his blue sausages; they weren't, after all, on the menu today, apparently. Although, when he saw Dumbledore, the old man had a blue sausage on his fork and was taking a bite in a rather theatrical fashion.

From behind him Tom heard, "Why would they do this?" from a young sad voice. Tom swivelled around to see the speaker, a young Gryffindor boy walking past with his friend. The child seemed truly upset.

"I heard one of the Professors say that the elves were complaining about having to pretend to be friendly with the students…" Tom let his voice trail off as he watched the boy's face sink. The child and his friend silently walked away with their heads down.

Tom smirked as he piled his plate with some of his less favorite foods.


	3. Chapter 3

_note: Bellatrix Black is a contemporary of Tom Riddle in this story._

 **Chapter Three – Tom Riddle and Defense Class**

Professor Merrythought was of the opinion that in order to be a true warrior, you needed discipline in everything you do: be precise with everything, from the way you draw your wand, to the way you brush your teeth.

Tom agreed fully with her on this point. Discipline made you learn self-control, made you harder and stronger. _Discipline makes you more dangerous._

Tom forced himself to practice constant vigilance. Even now, before anyone else had arrived to Defense, he scanned the room deeply, not just with his eyes, but also feeling for any hint of hidden magics.

Probably at one point, the professor had held herself to the high standard she liked to stress. It was clear that her passion for battle had left her years ago, but her knowledge and insight never would. At least she had a clue what she was talking about. She also appreciated and rewarded enthusiasm and competence in her classes, unlike most teachers, who didn't seem to care one way or the other.

Truly, he didn't really like Professor Merrythought much. _If only the hypocrite still practiced what she preached_. It was obvious that she had in fact done some of the amazing feats years past - she often gloated them - but just as obviously, her days of slaying Inferi were over. _If only teachers took these things a little more seriously, perhaps the students wouldn't be so incompetent..._

She was certainly no Tobo Mott. Tom had learned far better lessons on how to stay alive in Mott's "extra-curricular activities" than any Ministry-approved Defence Against the Dark Arts class he had taken at Hogwarts. Tobo Mott was a man Tom could appreciate. He didn't look forward to the end of their "lessons" together, when he'd have to cast Tobo Mott down and Obliviate him into oblivion, or, more than likely, kill him. But the man knew far too much of what Tom was capable. _Not to mention, my payment for his lessons..._

He did, however, look forward to the day when Headmaster Dippet would invite Tom into his office with a smile on his face. He would watch the crushing defeat in Galatea Merrythought's eyes when Dippet thanked her for her near 50 years of service, and informed her that Tom Riddle had shown the competence and aptitude worthy of usurping her position.

Tom would enjoy that victory very much.

The Professor managed to walk in right as class was scheduled to start. Tom caught himself from visibly frowning.

She had been frequently late as of this term; she kept misplacing crucial things, it would seem. Things like her lesson plans, or her glasses, or her shoes. The students spoke during mealtimes of how forgetful she seemed.

Tom hoped there had been a time when she would have gone above and beyond to cast wards to protect her living quarters from intrusion. But clearly that time had passed, as he had little trouble bypassing the superficial detection charms she lazily placed.

For now these little dings in her reputation would do: late for class three times already this week due to misplacing things or having small "accidents". _I have a funny feeling there's going to be an urgent personal issue to force her to miss a few days of classes coming up..._

Soon enough, people would start expecting her to mess things up more often, including herself. That unsure confidence would fester and cause her to get sloppier without Tom's further assistance. _Gently prod her in the direction of failure, and she'll walk straight into it. Dippet will not be pleased..._

Taking her seat, Professor Merrythought ruffled through her papers, all out of order, for some reason, this morning.

Tom had been quite careful to not so much as glance as them when he had rearranged today's lesson. He didn't have a moral problem with cheating, but he did have his own strange principles. His purpose was just to make Merrythought look bad, and if he took advantage of his strategies to, in this case for example, learn the lesson ahead of time, it would just make him - well, feel lazy. _Actually reading her notes is something_ _ **Monroe**_ _would do._

There was a loud crack from the Professor's wand. All the chatter in the class died down; all eyes focused on her.

"You have three specific enemies! Who for unknown reasons, are looking to do you harm! They are clever! They may strike at any time! Despite knowing this, you have to go on living life... and you have a thirst."

Tom sat up straighter. He was now quite glad he didn't read the notes, as this class was going to be one of the wonderful times that Merrythought went off book. _She ought to do it more often, it actually makes her students think on rare occasion_. Despite her hypothetical situations frequently being illogical, it was a nice break from reading on how to deal with boggarts.

She had paused to let the hypothetical situation take root in the class's imagination. "So! You decide you will go to the Three Broomsticks for a few drinks. No more than two, obviously you will not get drunk in your situation, but enough to take the edge off. After all, it's been a stressful day for you, and you need the drink and a social atmosphere... regardless of the dangers."

She looked around the classroom, her eyes magnified by her thick glasses. "How do you do this? How do you do this _safely_?"

Tom hesitated to raise his hand - to him, the lesson was a little foolish. _You don't go out for any leisurely activities until you have slain your enemies! Unless you can combine the two, and make slaying your enemies a leisurely activity._

Merrythought wouldn't want to hear the simple, correct answer, however.

While Tom hesitated, she called on Cedric Bagshot to answer. "Yes Mr. Bagshot, go on then, tell me how you survive."

 _Idiot, this should be hilarious..._ Cedric took a moment to consider how to phrase his answer, and then simply said, "I'd pay the extra galleon to have the drinks delivered to my house, and let my home wards protect me."

There were a few murmurs of agreement around the room.

Tom wrinkled his nose. It was a halfway decent answer, assuming you had a fortress and took several other measures. But drinking something delivered by an unknown was nothing short of foolish. _In fact, why on Merlin's green earth would you want to dull your senses in this sort of situation? Unless you're suicidal._

Professor Merrythought likewise poked holes in the boy's plan. "Even then, you would have to follow the delivery boy to be sure it wasn't an undercover reconnaissance mission."

The boy looked disappointed, when he should have been ashamed that he would have been killed. Cedric was a fool, and simply thought of this as a pointless game. _It does seem slightly ridiculous, but the thought experiment could turn out incredibly important._

"Yes, Miss Black, you have a proposal?"

The dark-haired danger put a sweet edge into her voice and asked, "How long have my enemies been out to get me?" Tom almost snickered; anytime Bellatrix Black opened her mouth in Defense class, something outrageous was sure to come out. If only she didn't so patently obviously have a crush on him, he would have considered her for Battle Magic fights... _Well, that, and she's more openly violent than I am._ Around her fiance she was calmer, at least, but she was the most aggressive girl in the joint Ravenclaw and Slytherin class.

The Professor considered the question for a moment and replied, in a creepy voice, "One year, these enemies know you, very well indeed." _Really now? Well, that changes my next idea..._

"An entire year you say, and they know me?" Bellatrix Black put a funny confused look on her face. "If that's the case, I would have to assume I was being paranoid by this point."

Professor Merrythought stuttered, "Wh-what do you m-mean, of course you should be p-paranoid if-"

Black cut her off again with that deceptively innocent voice, "I meant that my enemies would have been dead within a _month_. Or I would have been. If for some reason, they were still getting to know me after a _year_ , they would stay well away." She sniffed, "There are no enemies to be afraid of here, it's a trick question."

Most of the class laughed out of amusement at the "joke", but some stayed silent, for the same reason Tom and two others chuckled darkly.

 _She would likely draw them all into open battle at once, and kill herself, along with everyone within a square mile, with some wild unpredictable magic._ The girl was arranged to marry Antonius Prewett, someone he could certainly manipulate, but he wondered if anyone could control Bellatrix Black.

Professor Merrythought frowned, "Hmm, is there anybody in this class who could survive this encounter?" And she and the whole class looked pointedly at Tom Riddle. "Mr. Riddle! Please explain to us how to stay alive in this scenario."

"Well, honestly Professor, if these enemies know me as well as you say, it would be as simple as doing something that they know I wouldn't do, more or less."

The Professor was frowning again.

"I mean, look. If they know me, and know I won't take any risks, which I wouldn't, then the obvious thing to do is go all out on a gamble." Tom thought for a moment and continued, "I walk into the bar, casual as you please, and have my drinks in peace. If they follow into the bar, they will either assume this person isn't myself, a distraction of some sort, and therefore flee, or they will assume that it is me. And, if they know me so well, they know I wouldn't just appear like that without some massive advantage ready to wield against them, and so, again they would flee."

"Mister Riddle, I don't think you can just make assumptions like that on how people will behave. You defeated the purpose of the lesson." The professor was shaking her head lightly. "You put yourself in incredible danger by bluffing like that."

Tom disagreed, "It wouldn't be a bluff, it would be a trap."

"How would you overtake them if they called your bluff, and fall into your 'trap'?"

"Magic." Tom replied simply. This response got a laugh from a few people for some reason, but the Professor was unimpressed.

Tom sighed, "Fine, then, another plan. You can never have enough plans in place." The professor smiled at that comment, and Tom went on. "Well before you left your temporary safe house, you check to make sure your spare wand is still secure in the hidden holster. Hmm, enchanting a device for temporary superhuman speed wouldn't be a bad idea either."

Tom paused to consider how else he'd prepare. "There a few other small devices I can think of which you may want to bring along as well, but I don't think I will mention them now."

The Professor tilted her head in curiosity at that, but before she could ask, Tom went on.

"You would then drink from one of your four Polyjuice vials, each of them containing a different appearance, nothing too obvious, but no-one overly ordinary either. That part may be tricky… Really, it would depend ultimately on whom you were trying to fool." Tom inhaled, then continued. "Then Disillusion yourself, and just for overkill, throw on an….. No, forget an invisibility cloak, not enough freedom of movement if you actually have to fight. Besides, if they already know who you are, and where you are, an invisibility cloak won't offer much concealment."

Professor Merrythought's grin grew even broader.

"From there, you Apparate to a random location, with no link to you. Then you can Apparate outside the bar. Then no one will know where you started **.** I know you can track a person, but I've never heard of a way to track where a person just Apparated from. But it's still possible…" He finished his thought almost as a question, as he stared into the air for a moment and tapped his cheek with his finger.

As expected the Professor chimed in, "Apparation tracking is quite advanced, and will only work in certain conditions, but even then it's quite difficult. I'll explain it a little to you after class, I'm sure you can work out the rest from there."

Tom allowed himself to show a smile; he was providing exactly the type of ridiculously over-complicated answer that she wanted to hear, and he would be rewarded with extra knowledge. Professor Merrythought often had little gems of lore she would dish out to Tom if he could but push the correct button. Fortunately, she mostly seemed under the impression Tom was but a curious student.

"The moment you arrived you would observe the scene closely, probably for an hour, at least, before you entered. Rather than cast detection charms, which might be noticed by a powerful opponent, you would have to feel around for magical resonance. Not as effective, of course, but it's better than the alternatives.

"Once you were sure that nobody else was in plain hiding, you could then very subtly slip the barmaid a pre-written note, in somebody else's hand, with your order, along with the exact amount of money. Do everything quickly and precisely, very subtle."

He was about to finish up but considered the situation further. "If for some reason after getting your drinks, you had to stay there to drink them, you wouldn't do it at the open bar! You would stay in the patio where there are fewer people to watch, plenty of escape options, and lots of room to fight if you have to.

"And no, I did not forget about raising shields, even invisible ones would be foolish. Any competent wizard would be able to detect the slight surge of defensive magic from an invisible corner. " Tom was now satisfied that if he followed that plan, and adapted to the situation as it played out, he could control the situation if it got out of hand.

Professor Merrythought apparently agreed. "Well thought, Tom. Normally I would expand, and ask the student how they planned to fight possibly three strong opponents at once if they had to, however you seem confident you would simply 'Find a way' to do it…"

Tom nodded, and Professor Merrythought shook her head.

"You are talented, Mister Riddle, but I think your ego is a little larger than it should be."

 _My ego is just the right size, thank you very much._

She turned to address the class. "I am afraid we don't have much time left, and we have material from the book to cover yet, quite a lot in fact, so I'll have to put off the practical lesson I had planned till the next class."

Tom had been looking forward to a real Defense class where they got to cast magic; perhaps he was doing too good a job at disrupting Merrythought's job. He sighed as she pulled out the textbook; as with all of their texts, this one was full of inaccuracies and covered irrelevant subjects. Without better textbooks, proper teachers were imperative. _And this one is fading fast._

The Professor held the book open to show the class a picture, talking about how to deal with some type of giant spider that Tom had read about once. Rather than listen, he probed his memory for anything of importance. They hadn't seemed fearsome enough to really need to worry about - some magical strength, but no real intelligence. _Not dangerous, to a trained wizard; perhaps a little girl might be in danger if she ran into one._

"The underbelly is vulnerable to curses, and with so many legs, a strong tripping Jinx will get them into perfect position for a hard Stunner to the soft flesh of the belly."

Back to the thought experiment, Tom decided that if you saw a giant spider and threw curses at it, the three others tracking you could come out and flank you, then overtake you.

"You aren't likely to encounter one any place except its home, in a forest, or cave system, which would likely be full of traps and hard terrain to fight on. "

 _And once you start to notice signs of their presence, you should simply apparate away. If you can't, forget the complex jinxes, there are two simple words that no magical protection can withstand, no matter where you strike it._ Even if a person wasn't capable of that curse, or unwilling to use it at the time, they could simply use some type of overpowered brute force magic on it. _Magical or no, it's still an insect, and it could be squashed._

Thinking of how flawed others' thinking was proved to be a great source of enjoyment to him.

 _Once I get this job, our first lesson will be Fiendfyre, so we can properly send these texts to the hell they belong in._

The professor continued to go on in detail about - something - for the next little while, and Tom observed his classmates. Besides the girls that tried to catch glances of him, almost all seemed absorbed and frightened while listening to the details; however, Tom noticed that Orego Burke was paying more attention to him then to class. Tom locked eyes with the boy for a few moments, he looked away, and that seemed to be the end of it.

Professor Merrythought closed the book and put it down. "The acromantula living deep in our own forbidden forest have been growing more restless and wild over the last few years, according to the gamekeeper." The professor made it sound like this was worrisome news. "He says he has never in his life seen them change their behavior patterns so drastically, it's as though they have been preparing for a storm, or some other large event, for at least the last four years. There has been talk of bringing in researchers to study this new pattern of behavior it seems significant. I suspect their change would make for an interesting Care Of Magical Creatures class."

Tom doubted that, who cared what the spiders were doing deep in the forest or why they were restless? _I'm not taking Care of Magical Creatures, can we shut up about these things?_

After class he waited until everybody left to approach The Professor in regards to their unfinished discussion.

"So tell me, Mister Riddle, who is it you are hoping to track from place to place?"

She was almost laughing, but there was a tinge of fear in her laughter. Tom was sure she wasn't completely sold on his innocence. He had to convince her he was simply eager to learn as much as possible for the sake of learning. It was the truth, but Tom could also see lots of other uses for tracking Apparation.

"It's not so much I expect I'll need to track anybody. I'm just curious how it would work exactly. You know, in case I ever need a drink while 3 enemies are out to get me," he joked back, hoping to put her at ease, then smiled his most charming smile. It apparently worked, because she waved him to a desk at the front of the class, and sat on top of her own to regard him.

"As you well know Tom, all magic leaves traces, and nearly all magic can be sensed, if a person is sensitive enough to that type of thing. That's the basic principal behind tracking a person who just Apparated... do you see what I am getting at?" She cocked her head at him.

Tom considered it. "I believe I do. I've also heard powerful magic rubs off on a person, and lingers after they are out of the area."

The Professor kept quiet and let Tom continue working it out.

"So, say, your house has heavy wards, or it contains some ancient device of power? After you Apparated out, the magical scent would linger on you? A person can trace that?" Tom was very curious now, this sounded like something he would be particularly good at: his sense of magical resonance was strong, he could feel even the smallest traces of lingering magic in the air or on an object.

Professor Merrythought nodded, "That's the essence of it, yes. I'm afraid I have to admit that I do not know how a person uses that to trace the original location. I have never been capable of it personally."

She seemed disappointed in that, Tom could understand. Failure to learn an exotic magic would be a hard pill to swallow.

With as much enthusiasm as he could muster, Tom replied, "Thank you, Professor, you have been very helpful. I always look forward to our chats."

Professor Merrythought smiled, "As do I, Tom, you really are a talented young man. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up taking my job one day far down the road, once you get some real world experience. And realize your own limits, since you don't seem to believe they exist at the moment."

Tom let the insult wash over him, since she had no idea he was already destabilizing her reputation and planned to take her job far sooner than that. _Maybe then I'll rub some salt in, but for now_ … He learned from his last failed plot that even if you can move quickly, usually it is better to play the long con.

He stepped out of the defense room, and nearly bumped into a girl, but he pivoted and spun out of the way, hand ready to summon his wand in an instant.

He dropped his guard slightly when he seen who it was.

"You should be more careful where you are going, Myrtle." _How in Merlin's name does she just appear in front of me so often? Maybe Merrythought is wrong and tracking comes quite easily to some._

The awkward girl's eyes widened under her glasses. "Were… Were you about to curse me, Tom?"

Tom was still in a combat ready position.

"I still may." He said it only half-jokingly. The threatening undertone went completely over the dull girl's head and she laughed.

"Sorry, sorry, I did kind of come out of nowhere on you there, sorry about that!" She blushed and looked down as she continued, "I guess that's why you are so good in Defense class! Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about…"

 _Is she in my Defense class? I hadn't noticed._ Not that Tom gave a toss about most girls. It would be one thing if they seemed to care about anything besides staring at him... He was adapted to it by now, but last year, when it began, he became uncomfortable enough to consider cursing off his nose.

The girl grew a deeper shade of red before she was able to speak again. "I was really impressed with how you answered the teacher's question! You really sound like you know how to take care of yourself!" she stammered, all in one breath, then finally looked up again. Even if he was interested in girls right now, this poor, foolish thing was certainly not somebody he would consider. Why she couldn't take a hint was a puzzle even he couldn't solve.

So he gave her another hint. He turned, started walking, and said just loudly enough to make sure she took it as a dismissal, "Yes, I take care of myself just fine."

"Bye Tom!" Myrtle gushed, as Tom's strides took him farther and farther from her.

And now, Black was approaching him. He sighed.

"You don't really like Myrtle, do you, Tom? I could see it." Black seemed proud of her obvious observation, and apparently jealous of Myrtle's conversation with Tom for some reason.

"As a matter of fact, I believe I am going to marry that girl, Bellatrix." Tom said it sarcastically, but the sarcasm either went over Black's head, or the comment was all she needed to go over the edge.

"She is an idiot." Black snapped as she watched Myrtle walk down the hall. Tom could feel the air growing cold around her. He had to settle this girl down before she did something stupid again.

"She is my idiot, and no worry of yours." Tom put some force into his voice to stop Black staring at Myrtle.

"As you say…" Black said, reluctantly, then continued, "A pity if some accident should - "

Tom cut her words off with a gesture from his wand.

"If I need something from you, I will tell you, Bella." He put an edge to the end of the sentence to make it clear this conversation had come to an end. Bellatrix Black turned and walked away without another word. _The last thing I needed is Black cursing Myrtle into a thousand pieces in my name._

David Monroe seemed to embrace this problem; to him the attention of girls was a great joy and he went out of his way to encourage it. Tom on the other hand tried very hard to be curt with female students, but it only seemed to make some of them more interested.. Apparently his "mysterious and dangerous" aura had the unintended side effect of attracting certain types of females. At least with Black there was a chance of making her into a useful pawn at some point, a powerful witch without scruples could come in handy.

"Bellatrix Black, Abigail Myrtle…" He considered the uses he might be able to get from them as he walked.

Myrtle was malleable and weak willed, Tom was certain he could manipulate her into just about anything he needed with a few kind words. He was just as certain, alas, that her stupidity and weakness would cause problems if he tried to use her to any important end.

Black on the other hand…

 _If I asked her to prove that she could blow up The Three Broomsticks, I would be reading about a fiery massacre in tomorrow's paper, I expect she would stay to fight with the aurors who arrive as well._ The girl had incredible book smarts and was in the top of all her classes, but her impulsive decisions called her intelligence into question. He almost felt sorry for Antonius Prewett, saddled to marry her...

The fact was, like most girls, Black would do almost anything for Tom without hesitation, and she was powerful enough to use as a brute force "sledge hammer" if he needed an expendable one, but her willfulness and unpredictability was a weakness that would bring Tom down if he made use of her without a substantial amount of training.

Tom thought about Myrtle and Black as he walked.

 _If nothing else they could be useful scapegoats, witnesses, or sacrifices..._

Bellatrix Black stalked off down the hallway, feeling slightly angry.

"The only reason I let him get away with talking to me like that is because he is the only guy here who can back up his words." Her fiance, Antonius Prewett, certainly couldn't. Every year she'd had to remind him: they were betrothed from birth, simply so their parents could be happy with a pureblood marriage after they graduated. As long as he did whatever she wanted, she would pretend to agree with him in public. Unless, of course, he tried to touch her, in which case she would demonstrate exactly why she had higher marks in every class than he did. And when he begged to be allowed to ask Dorea Potter to Hogsmeade last year, she almost cursed him, till she realized that would be the perfect cover for her crush on Riddle.

Riddle, who definitely did not have lower marks than she did in every class. True, sometimes Black grew so angry with how Tom disregarded her that it made her want to curse him. _Bloody fool might even like it._ It probably wasn't worth the risk of finding out though. She was quite sure Tom did like her, but in his own strange way. The challenge of getting him to admit it was exciting to her.

She tried to imagine Tom Riddle coming to her door at 8pm with a rose in hand and sweet words on his tongue. It was a hilarious image. When her fiance, had done something similar, it had been hilarious in a totally different way...

Well. Tom Riddle with a rose would never happen, but she was optimistic something else could happen.

Tom was probably the only 5th year who could actually out-match her with magic. His views more or less lined up with her own - rather than reporting her to the Ministry of Magic for suggesting a ritual to sacrifice a herd of unicorns for immortality, he had cast a number of charms to ensure they weren't overheard - and he seemed deeply interested her opinions.

 _He does call me Bella, after all. Just like Father used to,_ Black thought with affection.

"Hey Bellatrix!" Mandy Perkins called. She turned around to see Mandy smiling at her."I liked that joke you made in class about your enemies, they better not mess with you, hey?"

Black tried to recall making a joke, but she didn't have a habit of trying to make people laugh. "The only joke is that somebody would purposely want to be my enemy. Do you want to be my enemy?" Bellatrix asked Mandy the question as if she were asking the girl to have a butterbeer.

Mandy looked taken aback. "Of course not! I was just trying to be friendly is all, Merlin's pants!"

The girl walked off muttering something, Black was sure she heard the words "hopeless" and "lunatic" under the girl's breath.


	4. Chapter 4

_note: again, changes to canon are intentional._

 **Chapter Four – Tom Riddle and Higher Learning**

Tom had verified that he still had nearly two hours before his scheduled lesson, but it was a long and complex journey to get to this, the one class that mattered more than all others.

The hour made him consider Disillusionment, but he didn't dare while Dumbledore was on the grounds. This way, he could easily explain his wanderings as a night walk by the lake; if he chose to break curfew, nobody would say otherwise. Whereas if Dumbledore saw that he was clearly hiding himself, the old man would figure something was up. _These excursions are the last thing the old man needs to be aware of._

Instead, Tom constantly let his magic flow outwards - around corners and into rooms - to check for any resonances that would indicate a human, elf or ghost. With his path clear the entire way to the front doors, he exited the school and made his way across the dark grounds.

It was in his second year that his attention had settled on the anomaly of the Shrieking Shack.

The stories he heard and read about simply made no sense. The type of "ghost" who simply wanted to break things, make noise, and scare people wouldn't stay in an abandoned shack.

 _Besides, if it was locked up, how would anyone even know?_

Perhaps once there was a ghost, but it should have moved on when people stopped living there. As a matter of fact, the building itself should have been demolished if the haunting was truly that dangerous. And if it wasn't that dangerous, if it was an appropriate "tourist attraction," why was it completely locked up?

As far as Tom could discern, maybe one out of fifty people who visited Hogsmeade took a look at the Shack, and when nothing at all happened, they decided not to waste time there again, and occasionally spread the word of the fraud. There were a few "lucky" ones that were scared away by some simple banging and laughter from inside on occasion. But Tom had heard a seventh-year Gryffindor known for being a founding member of the "Prank Squad," boasting about scaring off tourists more than once. The group could certainly be a sufficient explanation for the odd, infrequent "ghostly" encounters.

It had to have another purpose. Tom realized that the remote location in the village and the positioning of it in relation to Hogwarts could be relevant, if it contained an exit to one of the many secret tunnels from the school grounds.

Unfortunately, not a single one of the passages he could find were long enough to reach the Shack, and after a few weeks of exploring, he was ready to write off this theory.

But then, something else caught his curiosity. Walking past the Whomping Willow, he realized what an odd feature it was. A tree that knocked any student who came near into the hospital wing, what idiotic headmaster had thought that was a good idea?

 _Unless it was guarding something._

It was easy enough to find the privacy to cast at it, since no student was so foolhardy as to come near it, but none of his spells seemed to have any effect. Until he cast an orange bolt that struck a large knot near the bottom, making the tree freeze, and some of the roots retracted to reveal a small hole. Tom returned to investigate it after dark, and ended up exactly where he thought he might. That was his first time truly breaking out of school and into the wizarding world. He discovered many amazing things afterhours, but it took a year for his most valuable discovery.

One night spent creeping around Hogsmeade, Tom happened across two wizards arguing heatedly in an alley, words about to turn to wands. Curious to see a real duel, Tom took cover, and watched from under his "borrowed" invisibility cloak.

When the wands did come out, Tom was rather disappointed. He hoped to see some high-level curses flying, perhaps even some blood. Instead, the large, bald man drew his wand faster than the eye could catch, slamming the other man into a wall so hard it would have shattered, if the buildings here weren't warded against stray curses from frequent midnight duels.

His opponent down, the man slowly turned towards where Tom had ducked behind a similarly warded waste bin.

"I see you there!" The man said harshly, "Just throw off the cloak, and try to do what you mean to do. I'll re-holster my wand to give you a fair shot then."

Tom was caught; this man was clearly powerful enough that Tom couldn't overtake him with his best efforts. He had an idea, though, and he threw down his cloak and stood up. "I mean to try and convince you to teach me to fight."

Upon seeing Tom, the man laughed, "Go back to bed, boy," and turned to walk away. Tom was intent, now; he drew his wand, pulled down hard, and an inky black jet started sizzling towards the man. It winked out on an invisible shield a foot away from the man. The large man stopped in his tracks, and turned to Tom.

"You tickled me," he said in an awed tone. He studied Tom for a few moments: his stance, the way he held his wand, the magic radiating off of him, probably a number of other things as well. He nodded his head, apparently in approval.

"I'll tell you what, boy." (Tom _really_ hated that word.) "Keep coming around. I don't hide myself under any invisibility cloak, Tobo Mott's easy to find." The large man left it at that.

Tom was unsure of the implication. "And once I find you again?"

He snorted. "How about, you try to get the drop on me. If you can't do that, I can't expect you to be worth my time. I'll give you three, no four, tries to impress me." His voice seemed to indicate that he expected failure. "I know you're one of Dippet's, so I won't truly hurt you. You'll see just how little you know, boy."

The man turned and walked away without another word. Odd, but he was certainly a powerful fighter, and Tom intensely desired to be taught by a powerful fighter. _At least these four attempts will be fun._

The first two tries had ended with sufficient disaster to convince Tom that this man was indeed somebody he wanted to learn from.

The first time, Tom had tried ambushing him with an all-out attack high up on broomstick. Tobo had simply kept walking straight towards the rainbow jet as it rushed towards him. Just before Tom thought he would succeed, Tobo had yelled something incomprehensible, and his spell rushed back at him, thrice as strong as before. Without the power or time to avoid it, Tom was knocked him off his broom, rushing twenty feet sideways, before he began his exceedingly painful fall.

The second time, Tom had invited Bellatrix to Hogsmeade, hoping that she would bring Tobo's guard down.

 _And the consequences for that, I still pay for._

But on his third attempt, he was able to take the man unaware.

It was in the same alley they had first met. Tom Riddle approached the man with open hands and said "Good evening."

The large man smiled, and replied, "Hello, whoever you are." Tom didn't even see him pull his wand before the man spat, " _Polyfluis Reverso_!" The spell transformed Tom Riddle back into a confused old man who was just starting to realize he wasn't Tom Riddle.

Which was just as he had planned.

From inside his Conjured waste bin, Tom muttered an incantation, and the sound of rapid footsteps seemed to approach the man from behind.

He then immediately Banished the bin and stepped forward, mere feet from the man, just as he turned his back.

Tom bellowed the incantation to one of the strongest shield breakers he had read about. A bluff: that spell was out of his league at the time. But the man bought it, dropping his initial shields to put up a much stronger one, to withstand the breaker.

Instead, what came was a long wooden shaft Tom had Transfigured. Physical objects would pass through that particular shield, while magic couldn't. The shaft struck the man clean in the ribs, and Tom was surprised to see him actually recoil slightly.

"Technically, that could have just as easily been a sword, and I would have nearly cut you in half," Tom said smugly. The man was staring at the pole in disbelief. Tom cancelled the Transfiguration and threw the branch aside. "I think I've proven my competence to survive your training."

After casting a Healing Charm, he looked Tom over. "Aye, you're certainly sneaky enough to dodge death itself, I would imagine." He put out his hand and they shook, quite firmly. "Call me Tobo Mott."

"First lesson…" The punch came at the same time the sentence did. Tom knew how to fight - he had been bullied enough back in London to learn - but the man had him in his grasp. The fist connected with Tom's head and sent him sprawling, dazed, and angry. He rolled as he fell and managed to land on his knees; he sprung up in a rage and drew his wand up, spitting the nastiest Hex he knew.

Nothing happened. A quick glance at his hand showed it empty; a quick glance at Tobo showed him holding it.

"Still not sneaky enough, but you might do for now." Smiling, Tobo tossed Tom his wand back. "If you plan to fly off the handle and try to murder me every time I best you, boy, this isn't going to work. There are lessons in loss, which you miss completely by getting angry."

"The lesson I missed was that you aren't trustworthy," Tom hissed.

"Most people would say that, aye. I especially won't be when it comes to your lessons. Fights aren't fair, and I won't be either."

Despite himself, Tom couldn't help smiling. _Fairness never seemed natural to me anyway._

"In exchange for personal lessons, I will ask you to do a small job for me once and a while." Tobo studied Tom, waiting for a reaction, but Tom didn't give him one. "Nothing truly dangerous, just a little help here and there with a plot."

Still controlling his anger, he replied, "Fine, then." _As long as this man understands that I expect absolutely everything he can give me, and I expect he can give me quite a lot._ Tom normally had others do his bidding; it was not pleasant to be on the other end.

"You're clever, and sneaky. I have a feeling you don't have a particular sense of duty to uphold the law either. That, I can use, more than any type of gold payment for my time and effort." Tobo's face was now blank.

And so it had been for the last several years. Tom would steal an artifact from somebody, act as a spy, or even send a message to somebody who had wronged Tobo in one of his many business ventures.

Tom didn't use violence to send the messages; Tobo wanted him to be clever about it, and subtle enough to not send either of them to Azkaban.

Tom always made sure to perform as expected, or better. In exchange, he received extensive training from the powerful, dangerous and mysterious man, Tobo Mott. He was even taught powerful spells he wasn't likely to find in the Hogwarts library, or learn in class.

Tobo's training over the years had helped make Tom powerful. In fifth year, certainly, he outclassed everybody. Only two other students in Hogwarts made Tom wary these days, Bellatrix Black and Thomas Chang.

It had been a long walk through the tunnel and out of the shack, past the Hogwarts wards where he could apparate to Tobo's well-warded quarters. As he swiped his wand just to the edge of the ward, it glowed, meaning it was safe to pass through. He entered the small entrance room, but could go no further until Tobo came to unlock the wards. As usual, he came at the appointed time, and the barrier dissolved as he approached. Tom walked into the living room to discuss today's lesson.

Tobo looked particularly grave, making Tom feel uneasy. "Listen, Tom".

 _He normally doesn't call me by my name, this can't be good..._

"There's no lesson tonight, a shame you wasted your night by walking out here, but I couldn't send an owl without heavy code to explain. "

 _Because the code itself would have revealed there was some plot afoot..._ "Why is there no lesson tonight, Tobo? You aren't telling me something." He briefly tried to bypass the man's Occlumency shield, but it was yet too powerful. So he waited for an answer.

"I've got troubles, kid." Tobo looked the most sincere he'd ever seen him.

 _Now this I may be able to exploit._ "You will need to elaborate if you expect me to solve your problem for you."

Tobo laughed at that, a legitimate belly-laugh, something else Tom had never seen before.

"Kid, if I can't solve this, you can't either. You're out of your league, these are adult games."

Tom had considered himself an adult for years. He stood up straighter and looked Tobo in the eyes. "Please, could you explain all the relevant details to me? If I succeed where you have failed, give me a blank cheque to ask of you anything."

Tobo rolled his eyes at the request, but he sighed and started to explain how a certain man, a competitor, had acquired documents and other unknown evidence of one of Tobo's main operations. This man had agreed to keep this evidence sealed as long as Tobo went out of business and shared his most valued trade secrets.

"Now, I can't dare enchant another device for somebody, and I'd rather die before being blackmailed… Even if I could trust that he won't have me sent to Azkaban anyways." Tobo was looking very tired. "I don't think you realize the kind of money there is in that type of specialty work, Kid."

 _And here I thought it was your main source of income_ , Tom thought dryly.

Tobo went on; the man was apparently well protected, armed with an ancient device unknown to Tobo but apparently held great shielding power.

"He neither raises shields of his own nor tries to dodge attacks; I couldn't understand it during our brief encounter. Even comparing some of the most arcane magic I know, which has a similar effect to his hidden device, did nothing to reveal its true nature to me. He fled when I once cast the Killing Curse, but that seems to be his only weakness."

 _Unless it's a bluff... but I_ _doubt any device or spell could resist the green death._ "Is he otherwise powerful?" Tom wondered if this could be an even match for him.

"Not particularly, but more than you are. Not a third the fighter you are though…" The man seemed to be picturing Tom facing off against the opponent for a moment before he shook his head.

Tom kept pressing for information. "Where does he reside?" Normally, Tobo was powerful enough to simply assault nearly any compound and destroy everything.

"That's the thing; it's some very special magic…" Tobo frowned in confusion. "His home is small, deep in the forest, and it moves."

Confused himself, Tom repeated, "It moves? What do you mean it moves?"

"I mean, if a person approaches it, it will vanish as if you were a Muggle looking on a highly warded building. From all I can tell it literally changes location rather than anything else. It does the same if any powerful magic approaches."

Tom considered this. A plan was beginning to take shape. "How else is it warded?"

"Sufficiently, I would expect. But then, with this unfindable home, I doubt he would go through the same amount of troubles that I do."

"So it's probably not warded very well because of the high magic being used to 'relocate' it when it's triggered, correct? Do you think he would even bother to have an anti-Apparition ward on it? Since nobody could actually Apparate in without knowing where it is…"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter. As you said, no way to know where it is."

Tom wasn't so sure about that. "Can we lure him out of his home, just for a brief encounter even? We do not have to do anything aside from meet him in person."

Tobo shook his head. "I'm not stupid boy, of course I tried to track where he Apparated from, but there were no tells from all I could sense. And trust me when I say, I can sense a great deal more than you."

They discussed for a while the particulars of this man and what he was known for.

Finally Tom thought he had a workable plan. He asked, "Suppose I get to him, what would you have me do?"

Tobo smiled at the question, as if a child asked why water was wet. "Try not to get killed."

"I don't intend to die, ever." Tom replied, it was a bold statement but he knew his justifications.

Tobo looked Tom over with pity. "Hmm, I don't think any of us intend to, life just likes to kill us, is all."

"If I find a way to get to him, what would you have me do?" he repeated.

Tobo sighed, "In an ideal world, you would destroy any evidence he has on me, and kill him, hopefully without making the front page of the newspaper again."

 _Note to self, do not involve Bellatrix._

Well. Tom had no problems with the idea of killing this man. _The first person to die at my hand, but somebody has to be first._ It seemed highly unlikely that Tom would never have a good reason to kill someone, so it only seemed logical to start practicing early.

However… He felt certain that he could go above and beyond to truly impress his mentor.

They discussed the situation for a while longer, in particular the specifics of the powerful device the man had at his disposal. Tobo had no recollection of any lore about such a device; however, Tom felt an itch in the back of his mind, when Tobo had said that the device seemed to absorb magic, rather than actually block it.

 _But there's no need for Tobo to ever know what the device is if I end up with it._

Tom decided it was time to wrap up this discussion; he needed to get back to the castle. _And I must make another stop._

"What type of time frame am I looking at here, Tobo?"

"The sooner the better Kid, I'm losing money and customers." Tobo perked up with an idea, "Tell you what, if you do pull this off, I'll give you the entire profits from my first order back in business."

Tom waved the offer off. "I can acquire my own gold if I need it. What I need from you is… Magic."

Tobo nodded gravely, unhappy with an open request. "If you ask for something too advanced, you know I can't teach you, even if you can help me. Some seals can only be opened by one's own self."

Tom was frustrated; from what he understood of the Interdict of Merlin, Tobo could teach him anything he knew if he truly willed it. _It's a matter of him wanting to teach, not a matter of being able to._ "The spell I seek is hardly uncommon. In fact, I think it's a perfectly suitable spell to teach somebody to see if they are capable of wielding powerful forces."

As realization dawned, Tobo looked almost. "Kid, you don't just test powerful magic, either you control it, or it consumes you. And possibly many others."

"I have no fear of being consumed, and the only people who need fear being consumed by me are those I have decided to destroy." Tom realized that sounded too arrogant. He had to try to convince Tobo he understood the implications here, so he toned it down. "I've read about Magical Italy, I've heard rumors of the fall of Atlantis, I am aware of the Wind Weavers of legend. I have no intention of playing with magic out of my league."

Tobo had a blank face. "Aye, you do deserve a little credit, I suppose." He looked at Tom for a lingering moment, and then sighed. "I agree to your terms, Tom Riddle. Rid me of this problem, and I will grant you the knowledge."

Tom smiled; he could almost smell the unholy burning of Fiendfyre already.

With such a short time before sunrise, Tom decided to use his old fallback, "I was reading and lost track of time," to explain his absence from breakfast.

He reached the odd shop at the end of the twisting road, where, if you had the gold, the owner sold Muggle antiques, knick-knacks and curios - and whatever else you could find in the basement. Their lacks of regular hours were another benefit Tom often took advantage of.

Old wrinkled Groleo answered the door, looking for all the world like a harmless elderly fellow. His shop wasn't warded in any way, and he never had a shield up - or a care in the world.

 _Who needs wards when you have all the lore from those scrolls?_ Tom wished he could take the whole shop for his own.

But needs must; Tom struggled with a heavy bag of gold from his robes, handed it to the old man without a word, and was ushered in. Groleo led Tom to a random side shelf full of what Tom thought resembled Muggle "snow globes". Slowly, Groleo lifted his trembling, claw-like hand. A smear of black now stood where the shelf had been, and into this abyss Tom strode.

He now stood in the large dusty basement, with no sign of the rest of the shop. _At least, I've always assumed it was a basement, but who knows, with Groleo? A shame he won't actually tell anyone his secrets, of all people he'd know something about the magic required to move a house…_

There were shelves lining the walls, full of large tomes, ancient scrolls and Pensieves. There were no candles, yet the room was visible, barely lit enough to read in. _The overall effect makes this room seem extra-secretive and foreboding._

Thanks to the Interdict, a lot of the information here was useless, incomprehensible gibberish until one had learned the seeds of those spells and rituals. More valuable to him were the texts that went into detail on very interesting things, devices of power being one of the many intriguing subjects.

Tom never had as much time or money to spend in this place as he would have liked, so he had some trouble finding the book he remembered referencing the Amulet of Asshia. Fortunately - ha! - it had not been sold, and he found the passage:

"The Amulet has been known to exist for at least 700 years. Although its actual origins are obscured by legend and fantasy, it is reasonable to assume that, due to its properties and approximate age, the crafter was Ronell Manailur himself."

 _I've seen that name before. If he were an artificer, that would explain why Manailur's name pops up around so many magical mysteries._

"The Amulet appears as two parts: a golden chain, with links that extend and retract to fit around the user. The chain itself has also been known to retract to the point that it strangles the life from the user. There is no extant evidence why it has betrayed owners, but it is worth noting that the one confirmed death via strangulation was none other than 'Percius Makier', a distant relation of one of Manailur's enemies while he lived."

Tom decided to very carefully research his heritage before trying to use this device himself.

"Secondly, the chain suspends a large blue gem of magical creation. This gem is noted for seemingly drawing the magic out of nearly any attack, rather than trying to deflect or block the incoming magic. Once the Amulet is securely around the wearer's throat, the gem binds itself to the person's body and makes them almost impervious to attack. The exact limitations of its power are unknown, except that it has been seen to stop even the power of _ghphbjhhjqpxr_.

"It should be noted that the device has a trade-off: in exchange for utter protection, a wizard's own power will be fettered and slower under the influence of the amulet."

And that was that; the Amulet didn't do anything else. But that was enough. _That would be a fine thing to own indeed._

As always, the shop tempted Tom to stay here the rest of the day, soaking up any knowledge he could, and simply come up with an explanation for his absence at school.

Sighing, Tom closed the book and reverently set it down on the table. The book gently floated up and back into its position on the shelf.

 _That's definitely something to steal for my own Dark lair's bookshelves._

Finally, Tom stood up and walked straight towards the exit: a space between two shelves. He found himself stepping out the front door of the shop. _All that magic for books, yet a customer has to actually shut the front door. Groleo is insane._

On his way back, he wondered if he shouldn't ask Bellatrix a few questions. _I can't tell her anything, but her store of facts about obscure dark magic from the past has surprised me before._

Aside from that, he could easily move on to phase one of his plan. He would need to find three true-forged rings, and more importantly, quit hesitating and get on with practicing the extremely advanced technique he had been mentally building for the last year.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: Just a reminder that things that look like canon misfires are on purpose._

 **Chapter Five – Tom Riddle and Saturday**

A normal wizard might, after having spent his night discussing a seemingly intractable problem, reading more information, and walking for miles - a normal wizard might want to catch up on his sleep.

 _The way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time._ Tom Riddle currently sat at his desk with a fresh sheet of parchment and outlined the broad steps of his plan. Things always seemed simpler if you broke them down that way.

 _"_ _Step One: Locate and penetrate a small shack hidden by uncertain arcane magic in a vast forest."_

Tom saw no reason to be concerned yet.

 _"_ _Step Two: Overwhelm Dark Wizard who cannot be touched by most of my magic."_

Tom could think of several quite simple other ways to incapacitate a person. Moving forward.

 _"_ _Step Three: Steal the device of power, find out how to wield it without being trapped by unknown magic."_

If Bellatrix didn't know something relevant, Tom could always set the amulet aside for further investigation.

 _"_ _Step Four: Deliver the Dark Wizard to Tobo for questioning."_

That was more than Tobo had asked for - and that was the way Tom liked to operate.

 _There. Shouldn't take but a couple of days._

Having settled that, he cast an Encryption Charm on the paper, then put it with his History of Magic notes. While normally, he preferred to sneak out to the library unseen, Bellatrix was usually up early as well, and he wanted to see if she could help him at all with the Amulet.

Today, however, something caught his attention in the common room, so he summoned a book from within his robes and it appeared in hand as though it had always been there. Tom sat down and pretended to read it in his usual seat.

Instead of having finished hours ago, one of the House Elves remained working in the common room. Probably because of the fourth-year girl trying to speak with it, literally begging it to respond to her.

"Orney! Pleeeeaaase! You know me, Ashley! Please, stop ignoring me! Why won't you talk to me? We - we used to talk for hours while you cleaned my bedroom..." The girl was sobbing now.

Tom bit his lip to stop from smirking. _What do you know, the old fool predicted it perfectly._ Tom surely never would have thought about the consequences to sentimental idiots banned from all house elf interaction. But then, why hadn't he thought to just make the elves invisible in the first place, if he didn't want such pathetic results? _The man has some foresight, but obviously not enough_.

"Please, Orney! Just, please, just say goodbye, I know, I know it's against the rules, but please just - please, just one last word!" Ashley was absolutely wailing, loudly enough that people were starting to come out to see what the commotion was. The Elf finally turned to look at Ashley, tears in its eyes as well, to Ashley's shock and silence.

"Goodbye, Ashley." The elf gasped then wailed as it ran from the room; the girl fell to the floor, crying anew, while about an audience of around fifteen students gathered in disbelief.

 _The Elf will be going off to hurt itself, very badly for disobeying a direct command like that. Dumbledore had to have stressed to the elves not to say a single word to any student, to prevent another similar plot by me or anyone else. Apparently this Ashley girl would rather have the Elf punish itself than... not say Goodbye? And then never speak to it again?_

This was all too bizarre for Tom to try to puzzle out; he looked at the crying girl in confusion one last time and walked out of the common room. He didn't like feeling confused, and he was beginning to grow angry at himself for wanting to solve a puzzle not worth his time. Perhaps breakfast and a pretense of socializing would calm him down. _It wouldn't hurt to actually be seen around school a couple of times this weekend either._

"What's up with MacNair lately?" Terence Keen asked the Slytherin table as Tom took his usual seat.

A tall blonde girl replied, "Likely upset about his House Elf not speaking with him anymore."

Tom burst out, "What?" _That doesn't sound right…_

The girl looked at Tom and said, "It was his family's Elf, it came to Hogwarts with him, Walden knew it since he was a baby. And now that it's a Hogwarts employee, they can't even speak anymore. He was so angry he tried to curse the poor thing's head right off. Luckily the Elves are warded against students' spells, but of course it had to be reassigned."

Tom was well aware of the warding, otherwise he might have used something besides trickery and loopholes in his plot. But he was quite surprised at MacNair's depth of feeling. _I may have to reassess his usefulness._

"Well, where is he now?"

The blonde girl just shrugged and continued to eat.

"So Tom, what are your plans for today?" Tom slowly turned right and stared at Thomas Chang.

Chang originally came from China; they receive their wands at age six there, and train extensively in combat. Tom had traded some help with homework and other things like that for some of Chang's exotic spells. The boy knew magic Tom had never even heard of. Nothing truly impressive - he was still young - but there were some useful tricks the Chinese had come up with.

"I have some researching to do, and then I am going to practice Transfiguration for a few hours."

"Why would you practice schoolwork on a Saturday?" Chang asked Tom jokingly.

"Why would I need to practice my school work at all?" Tom replied completely seriously. "I have my own research to do, speaking of which I should get to it." _Enough socializing. I don't have the time to try to relate to these people._

On his way to the library, he reflected on Chang a bit. _Perhaps I am overestimating him, he seems to have lost the passion for learning he had when he first came to Britain. Disappointing._

This morning seemed to be full of one letdown after another. _Everyone is just so weak. Hm. Maybe I could tell Bellatrix that Chang has been insulting her, and then we can see what he can really do._

Although it was an idle thought, he felt a bit of a shiver as he considered, honestly, if he could introduce Bellatrix Black to Thomas Chang in the context of Battle Magic.

 _I can just see the Forbidden Forest, completely on fire, with the heat from the purple flames starting to melt the school off in the distance as though it were made of wax._

On second thought, perhaps that should wait for Tom to become immortal - or at least fireproof.

Bellatrix wasn't immediately available when he entered the library; all things considered, that was probably the worse option when he saw who was at a table near the entrance, surrounded by Hufflepuffs.

"Oh, hello there Tom, how are you today?" _Why he thinks trying to push my buttons is a good idea is beyond me._

"I'm fine, Monroe. Are those friends I see there?"

All the Duffers were girls, naturally. "Yeah, I make a lot of friends." Monroe was actually grinning.

Tom smirked and replied, "I'm sure you find it easy. You could pull a Knut out from a girl's ear, and they'll think you Merlin reborn." Two of them gave him hostile looks, while the others were just confused.

Monroe apparently finally remembered he was a Slytherin, started to look ashamed at cozying up with some Hufflepuff girls. But his face relaxed, he pushed his chair back, told the girls to wait a moment, then walked over to the roped off area delineating the Restricted section.

Giving Tom a smug look, he walked past it and picked a book off the shelf, thumbing through it casually while leaning against the shelf. Only his mouth smiled as he said, "Say what you like Tom, it doesn't bother me. I can do _this_ and you can't."

Tom was careful to keep his anger hidden. "Except that I could bypass the wards if I needed, I don't need permission like you." _Well. I probably could get past the wards; the problem is that Dumbledore would certainly know about it if I did._

Tom had never been given permission to enter the warded section, not even once. He had asked three teachers with innocent enough excuses, but they all either fully explained to him what he was asking permission to learn about, or they sent him to a teacher who could. _Who but Dumbledore would have warned the staff? Surely he must realize I actually need access at some point, or I wouldn't be able to become a Professor..._

The memory of Groleo's shop calmed him down. _Hogwarts certainly doesn't have a monthly subscription to magazines that contain articles titled "1001 Ways To Make Corpses."_

"As much as I love our intellectual discourse, I do have business elsewhere. A pleasure as always, Mr. Monroe."

With an insolent bow, Monroe returned to his table. The sight of his back made Tom draw his wand, but he turned and walked away before Monroe saw. _One day I'm going to Transfigure that whelp into a glass vase and cast Reducto to see how he likes being in a thousand pieces._

Fortunately for Monroe, Bellatrix wasn't in the library, so Tom was able to leave before his fury grew.

 _All right. If I were Bellatrix Black, where would I be?_

The girl liked to spend her free time wandering the halls. This had not been a mystery Tom could solve by following her around invisibly, except that she seemed to want to avoid her fiancé. Tom had quietly mentioned this to her, one day when they were hiding out together, and she blurted out, "I'm afraid I might kill him right here in school."

Tom had nearly shuddered at that; she had been completely serious. _And of course if she does anything at all, I'll get blamed for it._

So now he tried a path he'd found her on before, through a corridor in the dungeons, when he heard somebody step out of the classroom behind him.

"What are you doing now, Mister Riddle? I dislike the way you stalk through my hallway; it makes me want to reach for a bezoar, just in case." Professor Slughorn was chuckling and looking up and down the hallway, to make sure they were alone - or to make sure they weren't.

 _A pity Bezoars don't work on Transfiguration sickness_. "Have no fear sir; I'm occupied with figuring out how to bring down a different Dark Wizard at the moment," Tom joked along.

"Hah! Dark Wizard, you give me too much credit Tom. I'd never survive as a Dark Wizard."

 _I agree completely._

"Surely you've considered poisoning him? Personally that's the way I would do it if I had to." Professor Slughorn liked to make dark jokes, but Tom could tell his heart wasn't into it. _More than likely, it's just to get on my good side._

"Yes, I suppose poisoning does make the most sense, thank you Professor."

Slughorn chuckled again, "Ah I feel safer already knowing that the world will soon be less one Dark Wizard."

Tom smirked. "Well, if they'd just make me Defense Professor already, the world wouldn't fear Dark Wizards."

The next laugh was a bit forced. "All jokes aside, Mister Riddle, you are only in your fifth year and have yet to even take your OWLs. You know I can't make any suggestions or recommendations for you."

 _I had forgotten about those bloody stupid tests_. Tom sighed. "Yes, well, in any case, sir, I have to prepare to assault the enemy's home. So I'll leave you to it."

Professor Slughorn was smiling freely again. "Ah, good luck to you Tom, I'm sure you will make Salazar Slytherin himself proud." Slughorn saluted Tom, and Tom returned it before walking away.

Almost another hour was spent blithering around Hogwarts before Tom saw Bellatrix, outside by the lake, sitting halfway up a tree.

Tom looked up the tree. "Come down from there." He didn't want her looking down on him as they spoke.

"I like the view, the clouds' reflection on the lake is so pretty."

"Bella. Come down."

Bellatrix sighed and gently floated down from the tree.

Tom began warding the area so they could talk in private. Unfortunately, Bellatrix always grew far too excited when he did this.

He could tell she was only waiting for him to finish the privacy enchantments to speak, so as soon as he finished but before replacing his wand, he said, "Bella, tell me all you know of defensive artifacts."

"Oh." Bellatrix frowned. "Generally, they are made from things that already have certain properties. I don't think they are often made from scratch, but rather have shields built into them, and folded over and over on themselves, like forging a sword."

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't mean a device for blocking attacks; I mean something that totally renders them inert."

Bellatrix's eyes grew wide. "But I've never heard of anything like that before! That would be seriously powerful. Are you talking about something specific?"

Tom already had his cover story. "Yes, but I plan to craft it myself, eventually. But what types of other protections would one put on such a device once they worked out the fundamentals? Say I made an amulet to wear around the throat, surely it should strangle anybody who happened to defeat me in some way…" Tom tapped his cheek with his finger, finally allowing the girl to speak.

"No, I mean... you could but… Most of these devices tend to have a mind of their own, they will betray their master if legitimately defeated. I don't know why, but my father told me that's almost always the way it works in legends, the powerful devices want to go to powerful wizards."

 _So I just have to defeat the wielder of the amulet?_ If the device simply handed itself over this would be much simpler, but he didn't trust that it would be that simple.

Tom waved his wand, and the world washed in around them again.

"Is that all?" Bellatrix sounded disappointed.

"No, you can also go find Aerys Flintwood, and have him come to my dorm immediately. In fact, tell him to join you in my dorm, tell him there is gold involved, so binding him and dragging him along won't be necessary this time, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix looked intrigued, "What is this -"

"Now, if you will…" Tom gestured back towards the school and Bellatrix set off on her errand.

As Tom sat at his desk waiting, he practiced a few drills. He gestured with his wand and a glowing bat appeared, then lowered his wand and closed his eyes for a few moments to allow the bat to fly around. He snapped his eyes open and shot a small jet of blue light shot out, sending both back to non-existence.

Tom was about to conjure another bat when he felt somebody reaching for his door through his wards. Releasing the wards, the door opened just as Bellatrix was about to knock.

She was standing there with the short weasel-faced boy.

"Thank you Bellatrix, you may wait outside." Tom said as he gestured Flintwood into his dorm, and shut the door on Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix said you had some kind of job for me, Riddle?" The boy said warily. Tom found that out strange, as the boy was usually rather happy to earn some money.

"What else did she say?" Tom could feel his magic leak with annoyance; likely the boy felt it too.

"She… She said that if I didn't report to your dorm within 10 minutes flat you would give me a 10 minute head start to flee Hogwarts before you set after me."

 _Damn you, Black!_ "No, no, no…" Tom took a breath and composed himself again.

"Look, Flintwood… All right. Look. Twenty-five galleons. How long to acquire three rings of specific metals?"

Flintwood straightened up and smiled. "I imagine I could find them somewhere within a couple of hours."

"Tin, Iron and Platinum, please deliver to Bellatrix." He waved the door open again. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you."

Flintwood looked a little confused, but left without any questions.

Alchemy provided some valuable secrets, especially as most wizards didn't give the subject a second thought once they heard it was all about "turning metal to gold." Few realized there was magic in metal, not much, but enough for some small advantage.

Tom saw Bellatrix still standing outside his room. "Bella, I will need you to guard the door for me. If anybody other than the headmaster himself comes to interrupt me I want you to…" He thought twice about saying "curse them into oblivion," as this was Bellatrix Black.

"That is. If anybody comes to interrupt me, tell them I am studying in the library. Then take them there as if you were looking for me in the first place. I cannot be interrupted for the next few hours."

Bellatrix tilted her head in confusion but simply nodded, and Tom closed the door on her again.

Tom prepared every ward he possibly could on the door and turned to begin his work. _No more hesitating._

Outside the door, Bellatrix could feel magic building up to protect the room - and then nothing. The huge force was all washed out.

 _He must be working on his device, I can see why he wouldn't want to be interrupted, that would be delicate work. Could it be possible that he can create this device, as he spoke of it? He would have had to learn some deep magical secret, but knowing Tom, this is more than possible..._

Terence Keen gave Bellatrix an odd look as he walked past.

"Tom's in the library."

He stopped, confused. "I wasn't looking for Tom."

"Well he's in the library, do you want me to take you to him?"

Keen snorted. "Oh... the library, right, that's good to know." The boy took a step closer. "Come on, what type of blood magic is he really practicing in there?"

Bellatrix's eyes widened. She had to stop him!

"If he's practicing blood magic, do you think it's smart to be speaking so openly about it?"

 _He should have just minded his own business in the first place._

"Merlin… You're serious aren't you?" Keen turned pale.

"Am I?" Bellatrix put a sweet edge into her voice. "Even if he was sacrificing a bunch of squirrels, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"No, I suppose not..." He looked at Tom's door once more and then walked away, rather quickly. Bella smirked and settled in with a book.

After a time, the rat-faced boy reappeared and handed Bellatrix a small pouch. "Look, I don't even want payment for that. Tell Riddle I don't want to be involved in any of this anymore, and I won't be helping him again."

Bellatrix put the pouch in her robes and waited for Tom to emerge, as she wouldn't interrupt whatever was going on inside the room.

It was perhaps another hour before she felt the wards break; she stood up to attention as Tom opened the door.

His robes were fresh, but he was still sweating and looking pale and tired. "Do you have the package?"

She pulled it out of her robes. "I do. Tom, are you Ok? Just what did you-"

"It iss no concern of yourss!" Tom seemed to hiss at her as he reached out, nearly snatching the pouch from her before he put it in his own pocket.

"I need to leave the school now for a short time and deliver this." Tom said, rather quickly, "You will continue to convince people I am present but unaccounted for at the moment, is that clear?"

"Yes." Bellatrix nodded vigorously.

"Did anybody ask after me while I was inside?" Tom asked her.

"Not really, Keen was looking for you but I told him you weren't here and he left."

"Good." Tom walked away without even bothering to ward his room again, so Bellatrix laid a few charms on the door and went on her way. _What in Merlin's name is he up to?_

As Tom turned the corner into the main common room, he stopped short, as it seemed everybody was staring at him. He wasn't being paranoid, they were in fact looking at him, and he didn't like the way they were whispering.

"Bellatrix…" Tom thought, instantly regretting involving her in any way at all. He walked towards the exit, ignoring the looks. He couldn't help but hear the whispers though.

 _"_ _squirrels?"_

 _"_ _blood"?_

 _"_ _ritual"?_

As he made his way across the room, it only made him more confused.

Tom left the common room and started down the hallway, and saw Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore were coming towards him.

 _What? No! They can't know anything! Stay calm..._

Headmaster Dippet was looking rather sheepish when he said, "Mister Riddle, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us and answer some questions. I've received some alarming reports as to your activities."

Tom looked at Dumbledore; the man was looking rather severe, and stood just a few feet in front of the Headmaster. _Ha, Dippet won't approach me alone._

 _Oh._

 _Wait._

 _That's not... actually good..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six – Tom Riddle and Misunderstandings**

Tom Riddle sat in the Headmaster's office alone. The headmaster and Dumbledore had brought him in and left him to stew while they - tried to investigate - Tom assumed.

He was casually drawing patterns of smoke in the air with his fingers as he waited for Dippet and Dumbledore to return with whatever ideas they had.

He had been pleased that he had some time alone before the interrogation; he needed time to regain his composure after his transformation, and also to puzzle out just what Black had gotten him into - and how he could get out of it.

 _This is getting ridiculous. Surely they don't think they'll find anything after an hour? Waste of everybody's time, especially mine..._

Tom leaned back, drew a jagged seven-pointed star in the air and admired it for a few moments. It began to change color, from a grey mist into a fiery rune, a flaming crimson light. Tom watched it grow in intensity for a few moments, then, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, he leaned back in the chair to think.

"Well, what do you think, Albus?" Headmaster Dippet asked as the man returned from the dorm.

Albus Dumbledore frowned. "I didn't see anything overly suspicious, his wand hasn't done anything of note recently, and his room does not seem to have any lingering magic that is of major concern." He didn't want to mention the intensity of lingering Transfiguration, since Dippet was hardly the expert, but it had seemed almost unfamiliar at first.

Albus went on. "I believe on this matter it may come down to a misunderstanding. Even I find these particular claims a little too far-fetched. However, we will still need to speak with Mr. Riddle about it, and while we have the chance, we should talk to him regarding the other matter. The two may be related in some way I cannot see yet." At any rate, he was deeply curious to hear Tom's excuses and his version of events.

Headmaster Dippet frowned. "Oh Albus! Do you really think Tom is involved with this other nonsense? Still? It hardly seems like a matter worth investigating In my own opinion."

Albus did not, but if Tom Riddle was in fact involved, it was a cause for deep concern. "It's worth looking into in any case while we have him here," he replied shortly. After all, how many innocent misunderstandings with one boy could there be? Eventually you start had to connecting the dots, even if the patterns were abstract and made little sense.

Albus Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to try to tame the wildness in the boy over the years. There was much potential in him, yes. However, it had seemed like a lost cause from the start, and perhaps Albus hadn't tried as hard as he could have. But when you took a boy who had such control over his magic before even taking a wand, and left him so long among Muggles, how could his stubbornness and independence be a surprise?

"Albus, what's wrong?" Headmaster Dippet crinkled his eyes, tipped his head to the right, and stepped closer to him.

Albus Dumbledore shook his head to disregard the question, and put on a passive expression. "Let us go to speak with Mr. Riddle, and get to the bottom of this, shall we?"

Finally, finally, Tom heard footsteps. He had been waiting in silence so long that he started, fearing for an instant that Aurors were coming to arrest him, before his natural calm reasserted itself. _The Headmaster, coming to apologize. And -ha! - Dumbledore._

It had been long enough that Tom's mind had started to wander and look at his situation from every angle. He had been careful, but one could always be more careful. Underestimating Albus Dumbledore would be a mistake he shouldn't make again - he hardly counted the House Elves - but it would be just like the old man to put together a pattern to deduce Tom's extra-curricular activities. And if so... then this was all a ruse to get him alone and unarmed.

Tom had absolutely no intentions of ever being captured willingly. Even if he didn't seriously think he was on the verge of being arrested at this point, it was something to consider.

 _"_ _Your plan has to have at least 3 backups or it was like to fail"._

He sat in his chair with his fingers interlocked behind his head; he was facing the desk and rear wall, with his back to the door. He was admiring the brightness of the blue sky outside the window a few feet behind the desk. If three Aurors were coming to get him, there was no point in facing the door without a wand. As far as Tom could see, his best bet was to play dumb and timid until the last possible moment.

 _Unless Dumbledore is present… He may be invisible, so assume he is present to oversee the arrest… Dumbledore would see through a false surrender. Then I suppose I'd have to at least argue and make threats…_

You couldn't feel magic outside the Headmaster's office with the door closed - at any rate, Tom couldn't. And a silencing spell would quiet all traces of noise. All he could do was wait; once the door opened, he would be able to feel the presence of an Auror trio without having to look.

Tom was trying to focus his magic and build it up as much as he could, in case he needed to spring to action.

 _"_ _Merlin!"_ Tom whispered.

Not only had his magic returned to him at an impressive rate, but the well of his power was much deeper than before he had completed the transformation. He had expected some sort of boost, but the increase was shocking even by his standards. He found that he had to suppress his magic now, as to not cause immediate alarm if the authorities came in. Whether Aurors or simply the Headmaster, he would have to explain even more if they felt him holding so much magic.

It was dawning on Tom that "Unforgiveable Curses" were in fact punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban. And despite his youth, arson, robbery and extortion would probably be more than a slap on the wrist. Not to mention the other things Tom had to do sometimes to earn money, or "pay" Tobo Mott.

 _I have been careful though… They might suspect things, but they can't PROVE anything. They can't prove anything, unless Dumbledore put some arcane magical trace on me. Some radical magic which I know nothing of and Tobo cannot sense… And that is highly unlikely._

Tom shook his head at that notion, and at how ridiculous the law was. It was probable that they didn't even require any real proof against him, only circumstantial evidence of a "true crime", of which he had committed plenty. Then they would give him a "trial," which would be little more than a formality, before he was shipped off to the… The Dementors...

 _No, no! The Headmaster is just searching, and since there is nothing to find, they are taking a while. That's all._

He would be prepared for anything however.

 _If it is a capture mission, they would likely only use the standard trio for an unarmed 5_ _th_ _year student… The Aurors would come in single file, immediately to spread out and surround me in a triangle the moment they walked in, shields and wands raised._

Tom smiled and leaned back even further in his chair.

If they surrounded him where he sat in front of the desk, then one of them would have to go around the desk to form the capture triangle for the arrest. That Auror would then come back around, breaking formation once Tom was on his feet and walking towards the door.

 _They won't expect anything at all from a wandless fifth year student._

Tom smiled; he was beginning to almost hope they were coming to arrest him, it could prove interesting. He could see it now: he would stand up, raise his hands in surrender, then turn to the door as if to leave peacefully, frightened and helpless, in total submission. But the moment his back would turn to the window, the triangle broken, he would simply stumble back a step and bring his hands down. A massive blast cast to reflect off of the Auror's shields could propel him backwards through the window.

Tom stared at the window and felt the edges of the wards. One enormous burst of his entire magical load as he was flying towards the window should be able to pierce the wards - Dippet's office was nowhere nearly as heavily warded as Dumbledore's, so it wouldn't require anything else.

Tom would have walked over to the window to calculate the drop, but he couldn't be sure they weren't magically watching him right this moment. So he simply estimated how high he was in the castle at the moment. About two hundred feet, but he could time another blast/shield output to offset the impact. And once he was on the ground, the Whomping Willow was but a short sprint away. Especially with an adrenaline burst.

Running the distance before an auror got a shot off out the window and hit him would be the most difficult part as far as Tom could tell. If they had any type of real training they were probably at least as good a shot as he was, and the window was large.

Tom didn't think anything he had done was enough to justify burning through the wall with Fiendfyre and coming after him, but that would be one thing he couldn't fight against. On the other hand, Aurors probably wouldn't do that at Hogwarts but for a very last resort, which would mean he was absolutely done for. Highly unlikely, at any rate, so all he'd have to do was run fast, and he was a very fast runner. Outrun the shots, press the hidden knot, go into the secret passage, grab his hidden emergency luggage, and he could then be easily out of the country by midnight.

The biggest unknown would be the ministry's reaction time, but it really didn't matter too much. After all, once he had past the Hogwarts' wards, he could apparate anywhere.

Tom could make it that far down the serpentine passageway in 25 seconds flat under the effects of the road runner potion in his bag, though it would cost him energy once it wore off. Polyjuiced and dressed as an old muggle woman should give him sufficient safe recovery time once he was away however.

 _It's a shame to leave my true wand behind, but –_

Tom's thoughts were cut off by the noise of footsteps. Two people walking. Two old people walking. Dippet and Dumbledore.

 _Hm. It's almost a shame._

"Headmaster, I'd ask that you explain why I have been detained." Tom still faced the window.

"I'm sorry, Mister Riddle. You see, there had been a number of, err, strange rumors, and we had to be sure of some things." The Headmaster was coming around to sit at his desk now while Dumbledore took a seat on the side, observing Tom intently the entire time.

"May I have my wand back, please, sir?"

Tom had asked Dippet, but it was Dumbledore who handed it over almost grudgingly.

 _Oh, so very reluctant to arm me again!_

Tom gave it a wave to see if it had been tampered with, but it felt utterly perfect on first glance. _I'll have to do some more vigorous testing on it later._

Tom looked up at Dippet, and then to Dumbledore. "What was the nature of these 'rumors', sirs?" Tom asked.

Dippet replied, "Well Mister Riddle, Terence Keen had said Bellatrix Black admitted the two of you were performing some sort of dark ritual."

 _Apparently saying I was in the library was too complicated for her._

Dippet continued, "Also, another student reported that he saw you take a cage into your room shortly before, apparently containing a number of squirrels."

"Excuse me sir, which student would that be?" Tom demanded.

Dumbledore was the one to answer him, "That does not matter, Mister Riddle. It is clear to me that no ritual was performed, and I myself see no benefit of using squirrels to any end."

 _And we see Dumbledore's lack of creativity has saved me._

Dumbledore was leaning forward now and staring at Tom with his blue eyes now stormy. "However Mister Riddle, I am curious about the Transfigurations you were performing in your room."

Tom smiled at Dumbledore. "Why, sir, I was just preparing for my OWLs, nothing too fancy, but I was certainly practicing hard." Tom sighed deeply. "That is why I asked Miss Black to send anyone looking for me on a goose chase to the library." He then forcefully said, "I didn't want to be interrupted while I studied." In a calmer voice, he went on, "Why Miss Black started making such inappropriate jokes I couldn't say, but, believe me, sir, there was nothing special happening this afternoon."

Tom was putting on his very best innocent-orphan-act, but Dumbledore's eyes remained fierce as he spoke. "Mister Riddle, I fully expected you to pass your Transfiguration OWL with flying colors as early as two years ago. I have never known you to be the type to take tests so seriously."

Tom was starting to become confused. _What did I say?_

"Well Sir, I see now that these tests are serious, and I mean to do well." Tom shrugged his shoulders.

"Upon inspecting your wand, the last spells you cast were seemingly for target practice, having nothing to do with Transfiguration," Dumbledore pointed out.

 _Obviously, I wasn't using my wand, old fool!_

"I was taking a short break, leisure time," Tom replied.

"Why was your basic Transfiguration so important that Miss Black must prevent anybody from interrupting you?" Dumbledore was on him again, faster and more intent.

Calm as ever, Tom replied, "It wasn't _important,_ sir, I would wager that Miss Black probably read into what I was saying and projected her own silly ideas. Poor girl." He tried to put an air of a long-suffering suitor with an undesired suit. "Besides, sir, my Transfiguration ought not to be called 'basic', I think you would have to agree with me on that point, Professor." Tom smiled broadly.

The instant Tom was quiet, Dumbledore asked another question, with no hint of appreciation for the wit. "Why are you scaring children during the night, Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore was leaning forward even more now, and Tom could feel magic pressure building.

Tom was speechless. "I… What, excuse me sir could you elaborate on that last one?" Apparently something was going on that Tom Riddle was actually not responsible for. But his memory did seem to recall such an incident, despite it not seeming relevant enough to fully impress upon him.

Dumbledore paused for a moment and seemed to almost relax, but when he spoke his voice was still as sharp and focused as before. "Children have been roaming around at night, trying to sneak into the kitchens. The House Elves don't deliver late night snacks to them anymore as they once would on occasion."

Tom bit his lip to stop from smiling as Dumbledore continued.

"During their roaming, they have been chased off several times by what they describe as terrifying noises." He stared at Tom. "So you see, I thought perhaps you were behind this, since you were involved with the Elves in the first place. Not to mention your history of 'mischievous' behaviour around the school." Dumbledore was looking at him with absolutely no expression now, which Tom found even more disconcerting than the open hostility.

"I see…" And for once, Tom was totally honest as he spoke to Dippet. "Well, I assure the both of you, I am no way concerned with scaring children in the night; I have far better things to do. I do recall hearing a snippet of conversation about these events at one point, but other than that, I am at as much of a loss as you as to what is happening. I don't know what else I can say on that matter, Sirs."

 _It's almost relaxing to be so honest._

Dumbledore nodded and leaned back, "I believe you then, Tom."

Tom simply nodded. _Dumbledore is_ _paying much more attention to the way I speak than he ever seemed to before. This whole business is odd._

Tom considered before asking, "Can you describe the nature of these incidents?"

Dippet started to speak, "Well Mister Riddle, these childr-"Dumbledore cut him off.

"No, I do not believe we need any help from you, Mister Riddle, thank you though."

Ignoring him, Tom went on. "I'm just saying, there are a certain group of 7th years you may want to look into, if you hadn't considered the obvious yet. This seems like it would be right up their street."

"Yes, well, we will look into that." Dumbledore replied, while Dippet seemed rather confused and displeased.

Tom looked back at Dippet. "May I go then sir? If that's all…"

"Yes, yes, Tom, I believe we have taken up enough of your time, back to your studies then." Dippet escorted Tom to the door.

Tom walked out and the door closed behind him. He considered the curious interrogation as he walked back to his dorm. It wasn't so strange that they investigated the Dark Ritual rumor, but as the squirrels were gone, there was no reason whatsoever to press it. He was, however, insulted that they thought he was behind the scaring of children. _My plots are more sophisticated than that!_ He was starting to become curious, though - what was the purpose or point of scaring first or second years?

The lights in the hallway dimmed slightly as Tom walked past them back down to his dorm. Once there, he slammed the door behind him, hopefully disrupting the sleep of other children.

His whole plan was basically ruined tonight - tonight his actions would be especially watched. He pulled the now useless rings out of the pouch and tossed the lot on his desk.

He sat on the bed, steepling his fingers under his chin. Would they actually be watching him after such a lecture? Wouldn't Dumbledore think he'd been scared into behaving? He was quite irritated that the old man would be so obvious in his distrust in front of Dippet. _Unless that's why he was so open in showing me his distrust. To provoke me into doing something…_

Tom leapt up, rubbing his forehead in frustration. _I certainly have to be more cautious about the man, but there is no reason to get paranoid yet._

It wasn't paranoia that was causing him to pace, it was anger and he couldn't think properly while he was angry.

Bellatrix Black! How many times would that girl drag him through a lake of Fiendfyre? She simply couldn't think properly once given a command. _Perhaps I should bind her with a Vow so she never disobeys a direct command again. And then from there on, be very, very specific when telling her what to do..._

Of course that was ridiculous. An Unbreakable Vow wouldn't even keep Bellatrix Black under control. The smartest thing to do at this point would be to disregard her completely and never involve her in anything again. Even leaving school wouldn't work; she'd most likely follow him to the ends of the Earth. _Fool girl! I should just have her killed!_

It wasn't the first time Tom had considered killing Bellatrix Black, but he knew there was a far more appropriate target to take his rage out on.

 _The goal is not to simply kill the Dark Wizard. The main goal is to find the evidence for Tobo to protect his business._

Tom frowned. _But a good fight might help to calm my rage._

Tom smiled as he glanced at the rings on the desk. He had planned to have Tobo enchant them for him. While wearing them on his wand hand he would have had all the extra power and speed he could possibly need. Added to his own natural skills, the fight would be one-sided, and there was no fun in that. _No rings, no more help from Tobo. This will end tonight, and I will move on to other affairs._

After dressing for the weather, Tom left his room, then the Slytherin dorm, making sure to close the doors quietly.

Once Tom was out the front door of the school, he pooled his magics to cast the Disillusionment spell, but before he even said the words, a small noise sounded, like the cracking of an egg, and he was invisible. He was slightly surprised, as he'd never been able to cast that wordlessly before.

In fact, before being brought to the Headmaster's, he had been so worn out, but now, Tom was feeling a great deal more powerful than he was that morning, the previous day even. And he knew why.

 _Powerful wizardry breeds powerful Wizards._

Tom was also aware he was undergoing what was known as "Magical Puberty". A wizard's full potential developed during their teenage years, and their power could take leaps and bounds if they practiced properly.

 _The Animagus transformation certainly counts as powerful wizardry, but I hadn't expected this large of a boost, nor did I think it would be immediate… I didn't even notice it happening._

Tom was briefly tempted to try some more serious magic and see how strong he really was, but there was plenty of time for that later. Right now, he had a long way to go... and much that could go wrong.

He briefly stopped in the tunnel to make sure this escape bag was in fact still securely hidden, and it was. He considered using the Roadrunner potion to save extra time, but he would be tired when it wore off, and it was better to save it for when it was truly needed.

As soon as he was past the wards, he apparated to a spot in the forest that Tobo had brought him to. Unfortunately, the home of this Wizard would be much harder to find.

Tom touched his wand to his throat and let an incantation pass through his mind, _"Sonorous"._ He felt the spell vibrate down his throat and into his vocal cords, the magic warming his body.

 _"_ _Brotherss come to me, sspeak with me."_ The hisses echoed deep into the forest.

He tucked his wand away securely, double-checked that his other tools were secure, and then Tom transformed into a large colorful snake.

He swung his head from side to side, tongue flickering out and tasting the air.

 _"_ _There iss prey here… Large variety of prey…"_

He started slithering off to the east, towards the delicious smell of a very large rodent of some sort, a magical one. Consuming it would make him strong.

 _"_ _Focuss…"_ He tried to remember his human motives.

 _"_ _Brotherss are coming, sspeak with them, sstalk with them."_

The many types of delicious edibles around the forest were a distraction, but there was larger prey to hunt.

He slithered around in circles rapidly, trying to coordinate himself; he hadn't had the room to sprawl out the only other time he tried this. Having the body of a snake and most of the mind of a person was proving to be exceedingly difficult.

He focused his mind and the scrap of magic left in him, and closed his eyes.

Things started to become clearer, more coordinated between mind, body and spirit. The urge to hunt rodents diminished and now he had the urge to hunt larger prey, prey that could truly fight back.

Snakes started to arrive by the dozens and circle around him. He looked around in approval and they continued to show up at his side. He waited, until the slithering slowed, and the snakes stopped showing up. There were well over two hundred, closer to three hundred different colored serpents slithering into position, ready to listen to their new master.

He reared up and began to speak. _"Brotherss! I sseek one who hidess in your foresst, he iss outssider, and I mean to hunt him."_

The snakes hissed among each other and the general consensus was that this man certainly was an outsider; his magic was an inconvenience to the snakes and other creatures - not to mention, he was cruel. They confirmed that he was in fact living in the forest. Where he was, they could not say for sure at the moment; there were rumors and sightings a few days old but nothing concrete yet.

 _"_ _Sseek for me, sstalk for me and I will reward you brotherss."_

So it was done, the snakes would move quickly through the forest, spreading the word and looking for this dark cabin, intruding on them and distressing all the forest animals.

Tom was now sitting in the grass, rather dazed and confused at the moment.

 _I don't think I needed to sspeak wi- sspe- speak with them as a serpent to get their cooperation, but it's probably better to get used to being a snake._

Tom shook his head to try to get the smell of rats out of his mind; he was aware of how hungry he was now, but he shook it off. _This will only become easier._

Tom sat for a few more moments and then rose. It would take time for the serpents to spread the word and locate the wizard's home, and they had assured him they could do it "before pre ssun". Tom had time, if he needed the entire next day he had it. He could explain away his absence by saying he was wandering around the school, or indeed, in bed and overworked. _I doubt I will need very long however, my friends seem to be quite capable._

Tom was still sorely tempted to try out some magic now that he had achieved another boost up the power ladder, but it would do no good to draw attention to himself. _I have to be very careful not to let my human presence trigger his wards, lest his house relocate one hundred miles east suddenly, or perhaps alert him and have him ambush me._

Instead, Tom sat back on a large stone and watched the stars. He had always appreciated the beauty of the stars.

It was a few hours later when a single snake approached Tom, and then started to slither in the opposite direction again.

 _"_ _Brother, it iss me,"_ Tom hissed to the retreating serpent.

The snake returned, confused for a moment. It smelled the air with its tongue and eventually agreed that the human Tom was in fact his serpent master as well. The snake informed Tom that the wizard's home was currently about half an hour to the southwest according to the word that was passed along.

Tom thanked the snake, reassured it of his promise, and then promptly transformed into a snake himself once again to follow his brother to the rest of his flock, waiting at the doorstep of this so called dark wizard…


	7. Chapter 7

**_Chapter Seven – Tom Riddle and Experience_**

Darius Ahlee watched the dying embers of his fireplace, seated and sipping his cup of evening tea. A rat ran across the mantle, leaped to his bookshelf and sat there for a moment, swinging its head back and forth to sniff the air. He snorted. _A home that will protect me from the most dreaded foe! but no protection against minor vermin!_

Arcane magic tended to work like that: excellent for one purpose, horribly lacking in other ways. Yet woe to him who dared to tamper with a mage's spellcraft…

Yawning, he stretched upwards out of his chair. His wand was on the couch to his right, but by the time he reached it and turned to dispatch the pest, it had fled.

Darius yawned again, and with some difficulty managed to shuffle to the sink to dispose of his cold tea. The cumbersome weight of his golden amulet almost made him stagger, and forced him to more alertness. Unfortunately, he was not quite alert enough to remember that his wand was not in his robes, and searched futilely till he looked back, where it still sat on the couch.

He sighed, put the dirty cup into the sink and walked straight to bed.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

He was at the head of his pack of brothers, mere feet away from the house.

The house was ancient, created in a time when wizardry was much more powerful and raw. It appeared to be a small run down shack from the outside, but inside it was quite a bit larger and more lavish. No wizard could approach the shack openly without the owner's consent, nor could any long range magic affect it. The protection on it was very heavy indeed.

 _"_ _Sso heavy that creator didn't bother with other ssecurity meassuress, it sseemss."_

The rats he had placed under the Imperius curse while human were able to penetrate the shack, withdraw, and willingly march in the open mouths of his brothers with full enthusiasm. But he didn't dare turn back into a wizard, not yet, and he didn't dare enter the home himself.

He reared up on his tail, nearly six feet high, and turned to his brothers.

 _"_ _Go, bring him to me,"_ he hissed at his pack, _"_ _Do not harm, only impede… Thiss iss my kill…"_ At that, hundreds of snakes cautiously went forward towards the house.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Darius Ahlee slept in a dark and chilly bedroom, as was his preference. He lay atop his bed in his sleeping robes, with a brilliant golden chain securely around his throat. His house was a fortress, and his device made him invincible. Darius slept very well indeed - despite the number of enemies he had.

If he didn't sleep so deeply, it was possible that he may have heard the noises: the sounds of soft rustling of the leaves on the roof, quiet scraping coming from several places at once. But then, it was blended into the sounds of the nighttime forest at first; yet it continued, growing louder. Darius turned over in bed once, but never woke to the sounds.

One by one the snakes slithered in through the passages the rats had made, through tunnels in the walls, down the chimney, and out from the ashes of the extinguished fire. Dozens of multicolored serpents of all sizes began to fill the room slowly and quietly, surrounding the bed, and piling up on top of each other.

After only minutes, nearly five hundred snakes were in his room. There wasn't a surface that wasn't covered in several different colored S-shapes, except for his bed, and even that was on the verge of being swallowed by the walls of serpents. Yet they held formation, and waited.

The command came through the air on the wind, a low hiss. _"Flussh him out."_

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

The Dark Wizard Ahlee came out of his front door screaming, swinging his wand around to little effect, tripping and falling over the river of snakes that pushed him forwards.

The largest snake, which had been outside waiting, suddenly transformed into a boy. As his human form took shape a wand, was already in his hand, thrust into the air.

The anti-Apparation ward went up a moment before the house itself vanished, but the man was still there, trying to get an even footing to cast something powerful to destroy the snakes, but failing. It took him a moment to notice that his home had disappeared without him; when it did, his eyes widened in shock.

Tom didn't waste any time. Just as the man started to turn towards him, Tom flicked his left wrist, and the long wooden tube he had made, it flew up his robes and appeared in his hand. As he started to raise it, the Dark Wizard yelled something Tom couldn't make out; the ground beneath him shook so hard he lost his balance and fell. Tom leaned into the fall, tucking and rolling, behind a tree, then back onto his feet.

 _Interesting, I haven't the slightest clue how he did that… This may be trickier than anticipated._

Tom pressed his wand to the tree, and it exploded in a shower of large foot long splinters. He flung the mass at the man with a wave before running to a new position.

The splinters were not under the class of attacks the man's amulet would dispel, so he had to defend. The man was already protected by some type of shield, clearly keeping the snakes away, but he managed to cast a pyro spell on the mass of sharp stakes flying towards him before he turned his wand on Tom.

 _Too damn slow!_

Tom flicked his wrist at several trees near the man, and each tree fell toward him. The man raised his wand, spun it around, and the trees flew up and back towards Tom, in a wall too wide to dodge.

" _Reducto_!" Tom yelled and pointed at the ground in front of him. A large patch of soil was blasted loose from the earth. Tom dove into the hole as the trees flew over top of him. He saw a large loose pebble, touched his wand to it, then grabbed the Transfigured grenade, pulling the pin from it and throwing it at the man.

He seemed confused for a moment. Unfamiliar with the Muggle weapon, he hesitated a moment before deciding to repel it back to Tom. It exploded in the air, and the man was apparently startled for a moment by the unexpected blast.

 _I need to get closer._ Tom waved his wand in front of him and yelled " _Fumus Parietem_!" A thick grey haze appeared between them, obscuring everything. Tom immediately zigged to the left and then zagged towards the man's position. He could feel a curse fly past him as he moved, could hear the man yelling more.

Tom first silently used a Ventriloquo Charm on himself to throw his voice to the far right, and then yelled " _Protego Maximus_!" A heavy blue shield formed around him. _It won't stop his best attacks, but I won't need to._

The man was casting curses in the direction he'd heard Tom's voice, over by dense patch of trees. Tom could make out the blurred jets of light through the haze, and he determined their origin.

 _Silencio_ , thought Tom, and his movements were silenced. He started to run up to the man from the other side, but he hadn't gone more than a few feet before the man summoned a wind to blow the conjured haze away. The Dark wizard rounded on Tom, beginning some terrible incantation, so Tom stopped running towards him and simply pointed his wand in his general direction and casually said, " _Avada Kedavera_!"

The wizard went quiet as the brilliant streak of green light jetted toward him. He tried to dodge, but lost his balance, nearly leaping directly into the path of the miss fired curse and fell to the ground. Tom used this opportunity closer.

As the dark wizard tried to stand, he threw some kind of Dark magical rope at Tom, but Tom simply jumped over the cracking barbed wire and continued, sweeping up a stone from the ground with his wand and Transfiguring it into a dangerous looking yellow gas. Tom had banished the gas away from himself the moment it formed, and it flew towards the dark wizard.

The man jumped up, dropped his current shield to place some sort of Bubblehead charm not just over his head, but his entire body.

Tom took his opportunity and pulled out his blow gun. He raised it to his lips and blew hard. The dart flew through the air faster than the man could register, and it passed through the shield that had saved him from the poison gas. It struck him just under the arm as he was raising his wand. The Muggle tranquilizer worked quickly - the man's words were already slurring as he started to yell something Tom wouldn't have understood.

Suddenly there was nothing but blue light, a brilliant blue light taking up every bit of Tom's perceptions and senses. He couldn't move because he had no body, he couldn't think because he had no mind, he was nothing but blue light. And then nothing.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Tom woke a short time later, his wand still clutched out of instinct. He immediately rolled a few times and stopped on his back, looking up to get a better view of his surroundings as he swept them with his wand.

Except, it wasn't a wand anymore; it was a mere stick.

Tom didn't stop to consider the trickery. He dropped the unmagical stick and jumped to his feet; the last thing he remembered was blue light as the dark wizard fell unconscious.

It only took him a moment to see that the other wizard was still lying on the ground, asleep.

He looked around: all of the snakes had fled the war zone, there were fallen trees, dying fires, craters and ground that was simply stripped clean, in a great circle around where Tom stood above his fallen foe.

He flicked his wrist to summon his wand from, wherever it was; nothing happened.

 _WHAT!?_ Tom thought in a panic, he waved his hand to cast a particularly destructive spell at a tree but the words wouldn't come to him, he didn't even know how to…

 _Just stop panicking, concentrate._ Tom tried to reach out with… And feel it in the air. However he found he was simply staring at the sky.

 _What is going on?_

He walked over to the stick he dropped. Thirteen inches yew, in fact his wand, yet when he picked it up, it felt like nothing other than an ordinary stick.

Tom was trying very hard to supress his panic and remain calm; he had to stay logical and figure out what was going on.

He looked himself over, moved his body around. Other than a few scrapes and some dirt he looked no worse for wear. He closed his eyes and thought of as many details of the battle as he could. It all came to him without hesitation, and he was starting to see the mistakes he had made already, so his mind was intact. Yet that other thing, the indescribable sense of power that coursed through him and the world around him, was gone.

 _He may have attacked me in some way that depleted all my magic; it will return soon enough..._ Tom tried to convince himself, but he knew this was something terrible and was kicking himself for taking a moment too long drawing breath to blow the dart. At least the curse used had been interrupted, and therefore underpowered, else he may not.. have survived...

 _OK, clearly I need to get more serious about this whole immortality thing._

But for now, he needed to try to finish the job. Which would be simple, since it appeared the golden amulet was lying on the ground beside the Dark wizard.

 _Perfect… I hardly dare look at it without my power, never mind trying to claim it as my own…_

Tom took the Dark wizard's wand and snapped it in half over his knee. The sun had not begun to come up yet, and he wasn't thirsty, so he could have only been unconscious for a couple of hours, and the man would be asleep for days yet.

Tom bent over to pull an eight-inch combat knife from a sheath on his boot, and then took another step towards the fallen wizard.

Tom tapped his chin with the tip of the knife, thinking. Even without the wand, a powerful wizard would be difficult to restrain without magic. But if he killed the man, Tobo wouldn't get his information.

Tom sighed and kneeled down before the man, leaned forward with his knife and cut his robes away, using the scraps to tie his arms and legs. When he finished, there was a rather large piece of white cloth left over.

He knew he couldn't spare too much blood; he would have to keep it short and simple.

 _How does one find a person using five words or less?_ He sighed in resignation after a moment, and decided he could come up with something better for his own private use later.

For now... Tom took his knife and cut his thumb open.

 _Of all the things I thought to bring, a quill and parchment never even crossed my mind…_

 _"_ _SOSV5 Reply and follow owl,"_ Tom wrote out in messy, nearly illegible letters with his own blood.

The code was something they had agreed on, and Tobo had assured Tom that he would "rain down an unimaginable tornado of hell" on Tom if he ever used it for anything other than an absolute emergency. Tom was sure that this situation counted as an emergency.

Tom set the letter down to dry.

 _Now, I just have to find an owl to deliver this… As basically a non-magical person…_

Tom knew that even though he could hear owls hooting all around him that not one of them would come to a non-magical person, or deliver their letters, perhaps not even understand them.

 _As interesting as this new level of difficulty is, I think I prefer approaching my problems with all of my power…_

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Once again, Tom tugged on the long thread, and the dead mouse tied to the end seemed to jump under the tree.

The owl over head was clearly interested in it, but Tom knew the owl must think him stupid hiding here in the bush.

 _Perhaps it's not as smart as I thought._ Tom laughed to himself as the large white owl swooped down towards the mouse.

Tom leaped up from his crouching position, stretching out his arms as he jumped, throwing his "net" out at the owl. His cloak flew through the air quickly with the weight of the stones in it. The makeshift net surrounded the owl and brought it down.

Tom pounced on top of it. He wrestled with the cloak and tried to hold it down, but the owl had a surprising amount of fight in it.

"Listen, I understand this is terribly rude…" he said to the struggling mass of cloth. "These are extraordinary circumstances, however… I need your assistance, I need a letter delivered."

The owl was still fighting, and Tom couldn't get a firm grasp to pin it down, nor did he want to be too violent with it. Something told him this was a useless effort; the owl probably didn't even understand the speech of a non-magical person.

"Look, I'll give you an entire bag of Hubbard's Not-so-Ordinary Owl Treats if you just…"

The owl stopped fighting at the mention of the ridiculously expensive snacks.

Tom slapped his forehead. _I'm going to pay someone to breed a better species of owl someday, or rather, do it myself so it gets done properly..._


	8. Chapter 8

So here is the real deal.

The last few chapters have been an utter drain; they have turned a leisure activity into a chore.

Simply because the top comment in an early chapter was something like "Tom needs to get some action."

*Oh no, I'm losing them… I won't even scratch the surface for a dozen chapters yet, what am I to do…?* I wondered.

So, I came up with this "defeat a Dark Lord" plot pretty much on the spot. I've tried to wedge this into the established story I have planned (and written to a degree) and it's not going well.

However, within a couple of chapters I will be back on track, and I will pay less attention to the comments, and go at the pace I need to tell the story properly.

This "Interlude" was a way for me to break out from the chore of the current plot and still play in my universe. I had established a great deal of Tom's back story before I even started, so I figured a series of flashbacks would be fun for me to write, and interesting and insightful for you to read.

This is part one of three, each will be more or less the same, a series of flashbacks to Tom's past as a "muggle" with strange powers.

I do have an entire storyline planned for this little mini story; once again the story has sprawled ridiculously. There are a few key events which I want to hit which will help explain why Tom is who he is "now".

This is near 9000 words for part one of this; I'll post it in "mini chapters" over the next couple/few days. You can check back after lunch tomorrow and the next day and find updates, as I don't think I should make a thread every time.

The next "Interlude" will come at an undetermined time, either when I feel it is appropriate to provide context to the story, or when I simply get bored…

I will be taking a break from posting for a while now, but I will be back to writing the main story offline.

Writing and posting one chapter at a time is no good, I need to have 4 or 5 chapters written already when I post, as I did in the beginning. Not only for a quicker pace, but it certainly helps with continuity.

Hope you enjoy meeting a (my parallel universe version of) young Tom Riddle…

(I've made it it's own new story, simply because that's what it has become.)

s/11595761/1/Tom-Riddle-Origins-of-a-Dark-Lord


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter Eight_**

With his legs wrapped around the dark wizard's torso, Tom was quite uncomfortable, seated as he was on the damp forest floor, his left hand holding the man's head back, and his right hand holding his knife to the man's throat, to be drawn the moment he awoke. Hopefully Tobo Mott would appear before that was necessary, but Riddle didn't have much of an option, with his magic having been depleted. As it was, he would have to rely on his senses of hearing and touch to discern consciousness.

 _Even if Tobo does hurry, and he is able to restore me to power I will still have to explain my absence from school…_ _At the worst possible time, right after…_

Suddenly, it came to him.

 _Oh, of course…_ _That's a simple explanation that nobody can argue with._ _It will even account for me being at less than full strength if I need recovery time._

The pressure in the back of his mind began to fade, but there was still the matter of figuring out exactly what had happened to him and how to undo it.

 _Perhaps when Tobo arrives we can strip this "dark wizard" of his magic and impregnate it into me… is that even possible? Tobo should at least know of a way to restore my strength._

If not... Tom looked over at the unconscious form of the wizard he had cast down at his own expense... One person knew what had been done, and could perhaps undo it.

 _I have a knife to his throat, and he has a vast ocean of invisible force to stop me in ways I can't comprehend. And then, what if Tobo decides to kill two birds with one stone?_

Yet there was nobody else to trust. Bellatrix? A slim chance, but there was no possible way he would let her see him like this. Slughorn - Slughorn would help him if he'd lost his powers at school, but Tom didn't want to push him for this.

 _On the other hand..._

It would take a very convincing story, and evidence to accompany it, to explain this to Albus Dumbledore. Part of the truth should work, and the old man would surely want to help, to satisfy his curiosity if for no other reason.

It was an option, not a very good one, but perhaps in the most extreme case Tom would have to try it.

He hadn't truly considered that he may never have his power again; anything magic could do could be undone as well if you approached it from the right angle. Wizards didn't even know how to properly use magic, there was always an angle, some unseen connection that would act like gravity and draw things together.

But right now, such a loss! Magic surged through the world all around him. On every breeze, in the flow of the stream, in the sunlight and even air itself- the feeling was normally tangible. Yet just now it was all non-existent to him.

 _I was so sure of my plan that the idea never entered my mind…_ _Too worked up in the moment and I ran in without a real plan._ _I need to learn more patience…_

He had lived as a Muggle when he was young, and it didn't suit him. The moment he had first felt that incredible force pressing on him was the first time he had ever felt alive. Surely, it wasn't lost to him for good?

Suddenly, there was something. It was faint, but it was there, it was approaching him.

Tom leaned back and used the dark wizard's body as a shield to protect himself from whatever was coming towards him.

He forced his eyes open and watched as the silvery white glow of a floating white squid appeared from thin air and drifted towards him. It was floating through the air, propelling itself with long silvery tentacles, and emitting magic like heat from a fire.

 _If I can see it, and feel it…_

Tom couldn't produce a Patronus himself, and for that matter he had never expected Tobo to be able to create one either. Usually, the spell didn't induce any feelings like the "joy" and "happiness" that others claimed to be filled with. This time, however, the white glow of the magic washed over Tom like waves of relief. He could feel himself relaxing, yet he held tight to the dark wizard.

Tom knew what the squid was, and could just barely feel it, but other than that, the world remained in black and white. There was no mistaking what this was, or who had sent it - only one explanation for that.

"If it's an emergency we don't have time for this owl nonsense. My Patronus will bring me your location and I will be there immediately, ready for combat." The rough voice of Tobo Mott echoed from the squid as it floated there.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, hoping the Patronus could understand and comply. It didn't leave yet, but floated like a ghost, mere meters away from Tom.

 _A patronus is literally a projection of a person's magic, and something else..._ _Has anybody experimented with what else a patronus is capable of doing, other than keep dementors at bay?_

He had never had enough experience with the spell or the inclination to look further.

Tom focused on the magic squid; he closed his eyes and let everything it radiated wash over him. He could feel that unmistakeable magic heating up the air as the light of it lit up the surroundings. Tom tried to feel it elsewhere, but failed. There was magic yet in the world, right in front of him.

 _If I only reach out and touch it._ _Grab hold, as I first did when I was young…_

Tom put the knife back in its sheath and unwrapped himself from his fallen foe, focused on more important matters. He stood and walked towards the ghostly form. "Tell Tobo Mott…" he whispered when he was quite close, "I hope this works!" Tom shouted in desperation, as he jumped forward with his arms and mental focus extended. He tried to grab the force within the squid and take it as his own.

The squid vanished and Tom once again lost consciousness.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Tobo Mott waited in his heavily warded basement for his Patronus to project the location of battle to him.

"He sends an owl… Of a thousand ways to communicate he goes with an owl… Either it's bad, or he's got a dose of Bahl's Stupefaction…" Tobo was not pleased to be dragged into an emergency situation with no details or prep time. "I should have known better… The kid should have never been involved in this plot in the first place; in over his head he was…" the man muttered to himself as he double-checked that his armour was securely fitted.

"Who knows what the hell I'm walking into now… never should've listened to him. Prob'ly a huge mess to clean up here, else Tom went and put an end to his own story somehow." Tobo's voice was growing louder as he spoke to himself, stretching his wand arm to warm it up. The tea kettles on the mantle, which he had enchanted to feel fear, began to steam and whistle loudly.

The moment the Patronus returned, he knew something was off.

The yellow and orange flickers of light on the stone walls drained of color and the world became black and white for a moment before the Patronus grew in intensity, washing the entire room with a silver glow and restoring color before it disappeared again.

Tobo Mott lost consciousness.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Darius Ahlee stirred but did not wake; the tranquilizer was starting to wear off, and the cloth that bound him would not be a hindrance once he awoke. Yet Tom Riddle was still sprawled on the ground a few feet away, in no position to detain the wizard: the boy was lying there as though he were dead.

 _He was in murky green water that stretched as far as the eye could see._ _He was struggling to swim as the waves bounced him up and down; the vast force of the sea was trying to overcome him._ _He was fighting it, trying to use the force to help himself rather than let it swallow him._ _Every wave that crashed down on his head pushed him further under. He was losing his ability to fight, and much worse, he was losing his will to fight._

A hot sharp pain cut through the dream and woke Tom. Instinctively, he rolled away from the pain and tried to jump up, but he found himself lacking the energy to cleanly spring himself off the ground. Instead he flopped over, out of breath.

"I don't think I could have snuck up on you like that unless you were hurt, or if I was walking into a trap. Am I walking into a trap?" Tobo's voice came from behind him.

"Would you trust me to tell you if it was?" Tom asked casually; he couldn't show Tobo any more weakness than he had to. Difficult, considering he was struggling to continue sitting up straight at the moment.

Tobo scoffed at that, "Not bloody likely, but I trust my senses and it seems to me you're a Muggle."

Tom felt his temper flare at the word. "I may not have a wand, but I have a knife."

"And a big mouth, which is a second away from having a wand shoved in it."

Tom was about to retort when he realized he'd probably better just be quiet.

Tobo continued as though Tom hadn't started. "Now, first of all… Stupefy!" Tom felt the heat as the red jet flew over his shoulder and struck the poorly bound dark wizard.

"Secondly…" Tobo said as he lowered his wand a little to aim at Tom's chest, "Just what did you do to my Patronus? It made me fall over."

Tom gestured towards the stunned wizard behind him, "Apparently this one did something to strip me of my magic as he fell. I found myself without my power, for a time."

Tobo lifted Tom off the ground a couple of feet and slammed him back down. "That was obvious. What did you do to my Patronus?"

Tom found himself slightly winded by the slam, but he caught his breath long enough just to give a quick laugh and reply "I ate it!"


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter Nine_** ****

Side-Along Apparition was stressful at the best of times, but Tom was quite proud that he managed to hold out from vomiting even after arriving at Tobo Mott's. He just managed to take a few steps toward a chair before falling over and passing out again on the floor.

When he woke, he found himself in a bed, dirty clothes replaced with a clean set of robes. All of the devices and objects he had worn concealed lay on the table beside him, along with a large glass of water. A light orange mist appeared to be floating down on him from above, like a light rain, though Tom couldn't feel any moisture.

 _It seems Tobo has taken this opportunity to practice his nursing skills._

Tobo opened the door softly, but it still creaked. "Thank Merlin, you're awake!" He walked over to Tom and began fussing over him. "You must be thirsty. _Aguamenti!_ " The spell streamed water from Tobo's wand to Tom's mouth, and as the spell basically drew pure water from air, Tom had no compunctions in drinking it. Besides, he was rather thirsty.

"Are you quite comfortable? Do you need any more pillows? I've got tea and soup on the boil. Can you sit up?"

Tom frowned at him and did so. "Where's my wand?"

Tobo lifted the edge of his left sleeve, his off-arm, to show an extra wand and holster that Tom instantly recognized. "Didn't think it'd be safe for you to cast anything after you'd been drained."

Tom addressed the issue that would be bothering Tobo the most.

"I am sure your Patronus will not suffer ill effects, nor will you."

Tobo scoffed, "And what of you? Surely you've been affected…"

Tom waved the comment off. "Yes, but since I ate the Patronus I believe that I will be completely fine soon enough."

"And how can you know that?"

Tom turned up the corners of his mouth. "I know, because I will make it so."

"You keep saying that you _ate the Patronus._ What on Earth does that mean?"

This, then, was the reason Tobo was puttering around full of nervous energy.

"Well. I touched it, and I seem to have absorbed something from it. I assume it was the bit of magic you used to cast it." Tom considered that for a moment, then continued. "You've never been drained like that? Well, it was awful. The world felt dull, as though I was missing a sense. I had no magical power to speak of, nor could I sense it anywhere else. Until the Patronus arrived. That, I could feel the magic radiating from; it just all seemed extremely obvious once I saw it. I took its magic for myself and it seems to have jump started me again." Tom trailed off, wondering if it would be possible to experiment further. Tobo would clearly not want to, but surely some other students were capable of casting it.

Looking back up at Tobo, he went on. "Now, I admit I know little of the spell but it seems to me that a person shouldn't simply be able to 'eat' one, so to speak, and take something from the caster." Tom tapped his cheek with his finger. "I wonder, what exactly did you tell it to do?"

The rough man seemed to freeze for a moment, and he looked away from Tom before speaking. "I told it to deliver the message. I told it you were in trouble, and asked it to help in any way it could… I didn't really think it could do anything besides relay the message and project your location for me."

 _So it interpreted that to mean...?_

Tom knew you had to mean it when you cast the Patronus. So - Tobo actually cared for him? In some way, at least. Enough to not kill him when he couldn't defend himself, at least. Tom didn't think he could count on the man to _never_ try to kill him, but at the very least, Tobo found him useful.

"What can you tell me of the magic used to strike me down?" Tom asked, breaking himself from the strange feeling he had momentarily.

Tobo shrugged. "Nothing I've heard of before. But I think you were extremely lucky." The man gestured out of the bedroom. Tom could just see the stone table where Darius Ahlee was now awake, invisibly bound in an awkward position and deaf to the conversation.

"If this one had finished whatever curse that was, I suspect the effects would have been permanent, or fatal." His voice had a strange sad quality to it, which faded as he went on, "Guess you learned the hard way that you aren't adult yet." A forced laugh. "Aye, you survived. Just barely, but I will give you credit for that achievement."

Tom felt his temper rising, and managed to sit up as he threw back the blankets. "Not only did I survive, but I completed a series of tasks, which you yourself could not. As a result, I have delivered you your enemy for interrogation, and any other fun games you want to play with him."

Tom was now angry as he continued, but the air pressure wasn't pressing down on the room like it should have been. "In addition to the wizard himself, you now are in possession of his device of power."

 _For now._

Tobo let out a sarcastic laugh as he looked over to the stone mantle where he had placed it in some type of force field.

"Hah… The moment I touched it I could feel it calling to me. 'Put me on, Put me ON!' it was like. I don't trust that for a moment. It shouldn't have to urge me to wear it; I think it wants to kill me."

Tom suppressed a smile. If that was true, certain steps must be necessary to claim it as its master. If anyone could find these steps, Tom could. But he simply said, "A fair assumption."

"As for myself - what have your diagnostic spells revealed to you?" Tom demanded of the man.

"It's like you said, you definitely lost your magic for a time. Now it's returning slowly. Though... I wouldn't get your hopes up. Dark magic of that caliber normally has lasting effects; you may never be as strong as you were."

 _Not only will I reach that peak again, but I will surpass it by miles._

Tobo looked away. "Hell, I knew a man who was struck by a powerful dark curse once…"

"What happened to him?" Tom prompted.

"Nothing happened immediately. I mean, the sky turned purple, and a streak of black light broke from a cloud, it seemed to pierce his heart. Yet he still struck down his foe and walked away just fine. In fact, he seemed fine for the next several years, until he started hearing voices in his head commanding him to do things, like he was under _Imperius_." Tobo shuddered. "Anyone who listened, he'd say, 'They told me to drown my wife! They told me to burn my son!' Even to the Dementors."

Tom flinched at the word, but he was reminded of something. "A Patronus is considered to be one of the purest magic's. It will hold back the evil of a dementor, after all. For the lack of a better term, it would be what people consider 'Light' magic, isn't that right?"

Tobo frowned, "Aye… I suppose you could say that. I was surprised to learn that I could perform the spell, considering most people would consider me a 'Dark Wizard'."

"Perhaps, in some cases, the light may wash away the dark? That sounds like the sort of poetic rhythm that fundamental magic seems to work on." As Tom said it he felt it for truth: intuition, but his intuition was generally pretty accurate about magic.

Tobo let a real laugh escape his lips this time. "Perhaps. That sounds more like the moral of some story tale than how life works though."

 _I agree._ _However, in this instance I believe I am onto something._

"Tobo, how did you come to learn how to cast the Patronus charm? I would agree with your assumption that you shouldn't be able to." Tom knew that would sound like an insult to most people.

"My son…" Tobo whispered.

Tom could see Tobo tense up, so he didn't reply. Instead he sat and waited for more information about this apparent son Tobo had. Not that he really cared about the man's son, but apparently it was relevant to the Patronus discussion.

"My son, Stefford, was a great man. Better than I ever was, in every way. When I say he was a great man, I'm not just saying that as his father, he did things that…" Tobo cut himself off. "Well. It doesn't matter… Point is, when I saw him use the lessons I taught him, he easily overthrew a small group of terrorists in magical London… I felt something that I knew I could use to cast the spell…"

Tobo seemed to be finished, but Tom probed further. "What is it that you felt?"

The old man seemed to age a decade as he frowned sadly at Tom.

Tobo began to walk out of the room. Tom tried to stand up, failed, and fell back into the bed. By the time he had rearranged himself, Tobo had returned with two small vials, a blue and a red one.

Tom immediately tensed up at the sight. He hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time, not since the orphanage when he thought he was a Muggle. But he waited for Tobo to say something.

"Red is for magical exhaustion, perhaps it will help kick start a faster recovery. If recovery is possible, that is."

 _Oh, nicely done._ _Make it seem like a long shot._ _A sure thing would be far too obvious._

Tom remained quiet, simply staring at the vials.

"The blue will put you to sleep for a time to recover your physical strength. In addition with the red, you should be strong enough to go back to school once you wake up. I'd not recommend fighting any powerful wizards for a while."

 _Hmm…_ _The theory is right, and the potions look consistent with what he claims them to be…_

"I've already missed a day of classes, I can explain that, but I shouldn't press it."

Tobo put the potions on the bedside table. "How will you explain losing 90% of your power over a weekend? Knowing you, I fully expect every Hogwarts student to know of your abilities."

 _You do not know me so well then._ _They have no clue what I am capable of, why would I advertise my true strength and lose the advantage of surprise?_

"I won't. The more you allow yourself to be questioned, the more people think they have the right to question you," Tom said with a tone of finality.

Tobo shrugged. "Fine, my stores are running low anyway. If you don't want them, I'll keep them for myself."

Tom looked over to the potion bottles and sighed.

 _I don't think he wants to kill me…_ _Not yet anyways._

Tom tried to summon the bottles to his open hand with a mere gaze, but it failed.

Tobo removed the wand from the holster and gave it back to him. "If you insist on casting, do it right.

Tom grimaced. " _Accio_ potions." They slowly lifted up and came towards him; he had time to reattach the holster and put his wand away before reaching back up to grab them.

 _The state I'm in is absolutely pathetic, I feel as though I am a helpless boy again._

Tom opened the red bottle first and raised it to his lips, watching Tobo the entire time. The man wasn't even paying attention, instead he was back to reading the book of advanced interrogation techniques that Tom's foe had to look forward to.

Tom gulped the potion down in one swig. He immediately felt a small rush, as though he had been dunked in cold water suddenly, but it was pleasant. He did the same with the second bottle and started to feel woozy. _I hope this produces dreamless sleep…_

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

When Tom awoke again he felt much better, stronger.

 _Still weak…_ _Less so than before, but this is almost shameful._

He figured he had enough problems at the moment, and didn't want to add splinching to the list, so he decided to walk back to school.

"Do you want me to walk with you, at least part of the way?" Tobo asked as Tom was preparing to leave.

Tom stopped, "Do you anticipate retribution for the capture of the dark wizard?"

"What? No… I mean, nobody worth thinking about will care." Tobo seemed thrown off by the question. "I was just asking if you wanted…" Tobo sighed. "Never mind son, go on."

"What of our agreement?" Tom looked at Tobo hard. "I believe I was to receive something in return for this task…"

Tobo's eyes widened.

"Are you kidding? I was worried you might not be strong enough to learn that curse to begin with, now…" He trailed off. "Look, we'll work something out. You did well by me, and I will return the favor, as I always have."

Tom knew the best way to regain his strength was to push himself to a new limit. On top of his uncanny natural ability to wield the forces of magic, it was his use of powerful magic with delicate precision that made him stronger, with practice and focus keeping him that way.

 _I doubt there is any way to convince him that a literal trial by fire is the way to go now._ _I will not let him forget our deal though._

As soon as Tom was in the street, he raised his hand and flicked his wrist in a well-practiced motion. Yet his wand did not appear as it should have.

 _"_ _Accio_ wand _!"_

He flicked his wrist again, this time pushing his magic into his hand as he thought it. The wand came loose from the holster down his sleeve and flew into his hand, though it brought him little satisfaction.

 _That was slow; people will see the trick of it unless the wand just appears to be in my hand._

Tom took few deep breaths and let the annoyance wash away, it was clouding his mind.

As he walked, he practiced his summoning charm over and over using his wand and thought alone, taking only a little satisfaction in not having to utter the words. He had always taken pride in his wandless and wordless magic; having to use a wand to summon light bits of trash was degrading.

 _"_ _Accio_ paper bag! _"_ He thought as he gestured with the yew wand, and a paper bag flew towards him as if it were caught on a strong draft.

Tom kept his wand trained on the bag as it approached.

 _STOP_

He hadn't used any spell; he had simply focused his magic and forced it out. The paper bag stopped right in front of him and floated there.

Tom visualized flashes of fire, orange and white flames, throwing sparks, burning rapidly.

The paper bag flashed up in a quick burst of flame and was gone. That made Tom smile. Fire often made him smile.

By the time Tom reached the Shrieking Shack, High Street was cleaner than it had ever been - not a single stray candy wrapper was spared.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Tom arrived at school with still a couple hours until breakfast. He figured he had better go and explain himself to the Headmaster before people actually started to wonder what he was truly up to.

As he made his way towards the Headmaster's office, he was constantly pushing outwards, letting his magic flow and resonate with the area around him. It was a vastly difficult thing to do at the moment, compared to the effortless instinct he had before. It didn't seem to be working all that well either, as he came up on Myrtle sitting against a wall in the corridor as he turned the corner. Then again, he almost never noticed her, visually or magically. In all senses, she was too weak to register.

"Tom!" The girl stood when she saw him, smiling her repulsive grin. She began to run over to him, but when he raised a hand in protest, she instantly stopped, her smile disappearing and her shoulders slumping.

"Hello, Myrtle," Tom said, hoping that would be the extent of this conversation.

"Tom, I haven't slept all night! I'm so scared, Tom!" Myrtle exclaimed.

 _What is it now?_ _Did your shadow spook you?_

"Go to bed till breakfast, you'll feel better after you sleep and eat." Tom took a step forward and to the left to get past her in order to signify the exchange was over.

Insensitive as ever, Myrtle stepped in front of him. At least, he hoped it was her poor social skills, and not insolence. "I've been staying here outside the Headmaster's office all night. I don't know the password to get in, but I'm sure that the gargoyle will let me up if I'm in danger."

"Do you think so?" In spite of himself, Tom was interested. Although he probably wouldn't have been, if he himself hadn't needed to see the Headmaster. He didn't particularly care what danger Myrtle thought she was in, but he decided that unless he killed her, he was going to have to hear her out. Turning back to her, he tried to sound concerned. "Why would you be in danger, Myrtle?"

From the beginning of the sentence, she appeared relaxed, but the word "danger" seemed to remind her that she was in a panic. "The monster chased me!" she said, offering no other explanation.

Tom was confused, this was the first he had heard of a monster in the school. As far as he knew, the wards were quite good at keeping those types of things out, and certainly, Dumbledore wouldn't stand for a monster in the school.

 _Unless…!_

Tom's breath caught in his chest.

 _A monster designed by Salazar Slytherin himself…_

Tom nearly lost his composure and grabbed the girl to demand answers, but he managed to hold himself together. He waited a moment more just to be sure he was calm and collected, then said, "Start at the beginning, and tell me absolutely everything, Myrtle, so I can help you."

Myrtle smiled widely at that and moved a step closer, and Tom automatically took a step back at the same time.

"It's the monster that's running around at night trying to eat kids! I didn't believe it at first, but then I was walking to bed last night, and it came around the corner and chased me!" She exclaimed, all in one breath.

Tom was losing enthusiasm fast. _This sounds like the same nonsense the Headmaster was accusing me of…_ _Clearly nobody really thinks there's a monster with an appetite for children._

"You saw it then?" Tom pressed.

"No, I heard it. I came around a corner downstairs, and all of a sudden, I heard something scrambling after me. I ran to the bathroom, and it chased me halfway there before it disappeared." Myrtle had tears in her eyes from recalling her fear. She perked up a little though and said, "That bathroom always feels so safe. It felt especially safe when I was in there after the chase. I just knew in my heart the monster wouldn't chase me in there."

Tom didn't see how a bathroom could be considered safe, with only one entry/exit and tight quarters to fight in, but he didn't press the issue.

 _Clearly those seventh year idiots think that chasing students around at night constitutes a prank now…_ _It's a shame how far the prank squad has fallen._

It seemed obvious to Tom. The practical jokers of the seventh year were certainly capable of trickery realistic enough to put true fear in younger students. It wasn't as if they were above this sort of thing either; this year's bunch of "pranksters" was poor quality.

 _When I'm in seventh year, perhaps I'll simply take over and redefine the group. Give it a real purpose, real goals…_ _Though there's no rule that says I can't do that in my fifth year, even if there was it shouldn't apply to me._

Snapping back to reality, he said, "Myrtle, have you been talking with any seventh-years lately, or perhaps the Burke brother in our year?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't talk to many people… They always-"

Tom cut her off, "I doubt there is any monster, Abigail. I think somebody is playing a joke on you and several other students. I do not know why, but I intend to find out."

Myrtle shrunk a little at first, "A joke, of course it is. It always is…" Then the second part of the statement registered. "You'd do that for me Tom?" She was full of admiration.

"Certainly," he replied. Although it wasn't exactly for her, he simply hated school-wide plots that he knew nothing of. Tom waved his hand to dismiss her and said, "Go now - to your bathroom if you feel safer - but go and no harm will come to you. I do not think you need to bother the Headmaster with this."

The girl seemed a great deal calmer now. "Thanks Tom! I feel so safe with you looking out for me!" She smiled at him for a long awkward moment, and then turned and left.

Tom pushed the childish plot from his mind, and focused on the task at hand. He had to speak with the Headmaster and defuse any suspicion that may have come from his absence.

When he approached the gargoyle he didn't think it would be as easy as asking politely, but he tried anyways.

"Excuse me for coming at such an early hour. I have urgent business to discuss with the Headmaster."

That of course failed to produce any results, which made Tom glad. With this prank and/or monster going on, it would have been highly disappointing if one could get into the Headmaster's office simply by asking. But was Myrtle's theory any better? He tapped his cheek, thinking. Not only would it be counterproductive to stage some dangerous scenario simply to explain an absence, a proper security system would simply alert the Headmaster, rather than opening the door.

So Tom started casting magic at the statue, a random spell here and there, but mostly he was just using his own raw magic with no real spell behind it to strike at the statue.

He quickly became winded and stopped to rest.

Suddenly, Headmaster Dippet's voice echoed out of the gargoyle's mouth. "What are you doing, Tom Riddle?"

"I was merely trying to get your attention, Sir. I'd like to have a word with you, if I could."

The gargoyle yawned and said, "I imagine you would have said if it was an emergency. So allow me a few moments to get ready."

The statue became still once more and Tom was left to wait.

Once he was granted entry to the office, he made his way forward to the desk and stood before it.

"I'm not sure if you or any of my professors have noticed, but I was not present in my classes yesterday. Nor will I attend today, and I want to explain," Tom said with a slight tone of shame.

"Professor Dumbledore did in fact notice that you were missing. When he could neither find you in your dorm or the hospital wing he was quite concerned," Dippet replied.

 _Concerned about what I was getting up to, you mean._

Tom was unsettled; this wasn't the first time he had missed a transfiguration class, but it was apparently the first time Dumbledore actively tried to find out why.

"Well, no, sir, he wouldn't have found me there. I was in Hogsmeade, studying with a professional tutor. After all, if I try to hide away in the school, people will start spreading rumors and disrupting me," Tom said stiffly, referring to his previous summons to the office.

"A professional tutor you say?" Dippet seemed intrigued. "Who is it?"

"Nobody you'd know sir, just somebody who was helping me prepare for my Defense against the Dark Arts OWL."

Dippet frowned. "Mister Riddle, I know that you don't approve of the way classes are taught here at Hogwarts. But you cannot simply come and go as you please! Hogwarts classes are to be the first priority."

 _If by disapprove you mean I think 90% of classes are a waste of time, which could be used to really learn magic, I'll agree with that._

"I know, sir. It's not going to be a habit; it was just the one day of study. But I'm afraid it has left me rather worn out. I'd like permission to skip my classes today as well so I can get some rest."

"Well, if you're that worn out, you'd best go to the Infirmary."

"Yes sir, thank you, Sir," Tom said and left the office.

The Infirmary was less than ideal but he decided it would help sell the story. His entire body ached, and he wanted a proper breakfast, but he couldn't look forward to going to the Great Hall. In the hospital wing, he'd be waited on hand and foot by the spinster Nurses who thought he was a handsome young man, but they'd know better than to bother him.

So he went to his room, took out all the books he wanted, and headed to the Infirmary.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 10_**

Tom would have liked to spend some of his idle time practicing his magic, but as he was in the Infirmary for magical exhaustion, his wand was being kept well away except for one hour after supper, under the watchful eye of a nurse. Tom did manage to find some amusement in subtly knocking over Lucius Bode's water glass across the aisle from him whenever the boy tried to reach for it.

Natural skills aside, knowledge had played a large part in carving the depths of his well of power. The proper book was even more useful than a wand in some cases.

Tom dug out an old book he had neglected for too long. He was sure he could remember most by memory, but he knew all too well how faulty memory really was. Besides, there are always lines between the lines.

 _Ancient Secrets, By Marwyn the Mage._ Tom affectionately stroked the cover. Of course right now it appeared to be _The Fungi You Never Knew!_ with a bright green cover and a clean look to it.

In his second year Tom had stolen this copy off of a used bookshelf in a section of Knockturn Alley that Dumbledore had forbidden him to enter. That had been the main reason Tom had decided to investigate.

The cover was particularly worn, even for an old book. Where it had been torn or deformed, it appeared as though there were blood stains on the black cover from the "wounds". It looked as though it had been read thousands of times, over hundreds of years, but simple diagnostic spells had revealed the book was enchanted in some way to appear old and forgotten, as well as impervious to normal harms. Tom assumed Fiendfyre or a number of other curses may destroy it, though he had no intention of trying.

The fact that somebody thought nothing of enchanting perhaps dozens of these books with permanent powerful magic just for effect was enough to tell Tom that this "Marwyn" knew a few things about wizardry that Tom could appreciate.

Not only that, but the readings of Marwyn sometimes contradicted the work of "magical scholars" from the Ministry-mandated reading list in the exact ways Tom had disagreed with them from the start.

 _That was probably why Bellatrix had been unable to find a copy even in the forbidden section of the library._

Tom had decided to make this book one of the main topics of his own classes once he came into power in the school. It would be no fun being the most powerful wizard if the second best was miles behind.

 _Some of these children actually do have potential, but they won't realize it studying at Hogwarts right now…_

The book strongly recommended the use of non-verbal magic and that was something Tom had used before he knew wizards existed.

Marwyn claimed that by using traditional incantations you were relying on the natural magic of the world to power you for the most part - external fuel. Whereas if you developed enough internal power through practice, you would not need the keys of wand work and incantations to open the external doors, but if you did use them, they appeared far more effective. That had resonated with Tom the first time he read it, and he felt like it was more relevant now than ever.

 _I didn't start with flamboyant wand work and strange phrases, and even when they tried to teach me, it never suited me._

Tom chuckled at the idea of showing his Charms Professor this book. Any Professor would probably chuck the thing, and tell the Headmaster he was looking into the Dark Arts, besides. Marwyn did, after all, speak of the usefulness of sacrifices, and never shied away from any type of magic, no matter its source.

The first few chapters were about the fundamental workings of magic, and the next few on the different levels and channels of magic that can be accessed. The author also went into great detail on the different theories of magic's origin, none of which he actually agreed with.

The rest of the book described in vivid detail Marwyn's educated speculation on the events that occurred in places like magical Italy, The Arm of Dorne, and Atlantis itself after the unpracticed use of the most powerful forces.

Tom had decided that if the author put such emphasis on the dangers of true magic, then it was best to set aside until he had read many more books like this one. There was one in particular, another written by Marwyn which he mentioned once, _The Book of Lost Books._ Tom had never been able to find a copy, and he had truly looked.

Tom closed the book after a time and pushed it aside. He then opened the drawer that held his wand (hadn't it been locked? Tom couldn't remember anymore) and looked it over. There was an energy coming from it, even without touching it, he could feel it.

 _A crutch… I've only needed it for certain things, none of which I expect to encounter in the next few days._

Tom knew he was already at a disadvantage, weak.

 _Other than "Battle Magic" on Thursday I see no reason to need to perform any extraordinary magic, and even then I can beat Chang in a number of other ways… Although, perhaps putting forth an actual effort would be beneficial._

If he had to relearn magic and grow strong again, he would do it the same way he did in the beginning. No wand or words unless he absolutely needed them.

So he resigned himself to putting it in his holster and committing to not use it for trivial things.

After lunch was served and consumed Tom then decided he should take this chance to talk with MacNair. He was getting tired of sitting around like a lump while there were things to be looked into.

 _Either his girlfriend is spreading terrible rumors about him, or she is betraying his dark secrets. Either way she should be punished… And I need to know if I can still rely on him or not._

Ever since Tom had heard that MacNair had taken the House Elf ban to heart, he had been worried.

The MacNair that Tom thought he knew wouldn't become friends with an elf… If the rumor was true then MacNair's ability for deception was worrying, and Tom would need to find out exactly what else the boy had been lying about.

As Tom was leaving the old nurse Chloe came running over to him, "Oh Tom! You must lie down; you are in no condition to go back to class."

Tom gave her a wide smile, "Ah Chloe, you are sweet. You remind me of my grandmother. Will you force feed me an entire batch of cookies as well?"

Chloe tittered, "Maybe I should, chocolate is always good for magical exhaustion."

"Trust me, my sweet tooth won't allow less than five candy bars in my dorm at any time," Tom replied swiftly.

"Oh well… OK. You HAVE to remain in bed Tom though, no gallivanting around chasing after girls."

Tom legitimately laughed, "No fear on that account Chloe, that's the last thing on my mind."

The nurse smiled slyly at him. "Oh yes, indeed, that's why I wouldn't let Miss Black in to see you while you were napping, though she tried twice."

Tom sighed. The last thing he needed was Bellatrix making him look suspicious. "I will avoid Miss Black at all costs!" Tom told her with emphasis as he started to walk away.

The nurse said something to him as he was leaving, but he was thinking of other things already and simply waved back at her.

Tom knew MacNair had a spare period right now, and suspected he would be in the library. Unfortunately, it was highly likely that David Monroe would be there too, since the boy treated the library as a social club rather than an archive of knowledge.

Not that Monroe was an actual threat to Tom, magic or no, but he was still an absurd annoyance at the best of times.

Eventually Tom decided that not only did he need to speak with MacNair about elves, he also had to learn what he could about the "Monsters in the night". And he couldn't very well do that unless he socialized with other students.

 _Perhaps when I regain all of my previous power I will transform myself again and slither through the pipes in the walls and listen in on conversations, rather than having to participate in them…_

Just as soon as he had walked around the corner of the Hospital wing, Bellatrix was on him.

"Where have you been the last few days? You missed so much!" She said in an odd tone.

"I doubt I've missed anything significant. Don't play games with me, Bellatrix," Tom said as he locked into her gaze, annoyed with her for trying to pry into his business in the Hospital Wing. She wavered and looked down after a moment.

"I just mean, I don't know…" she replied slowly.

"Of course not. That is why I never asked you."

"Huh?" The girl replied with a puzzled look.

"Quite right." Tom said, finishing that line of conversation. "Tell me, have you seen MacNair?"

"Not lately. Should I find him for you?" Bellatrix asked, a bright look in her eyes.

"No, you should find your dorm room and confine yourself." Tom turned and walked away.

 _I need to come up with a way to keep her well away from me until I need her, I have just as many problems as I like to deal with at the moment and her adding more might just make me lose my composure._

When Tom got to the library he was pleased not only that MacNair was in fact in the room, but there was also a glaring absence of David Monroe and his entourage.

Tom started making his way over to his questionable ally when the oaf Hagrid came around the bookshelf and bumped into Tom, knocking him over.

"Eh, sorry 'bout that Tom, didn't see yeh there." The half giant offered in apology along with his hand.

Tom paid no attention to the hand but instead pushed himself up. "It's my fault really; you're larger and thicker than a castle wall. If I didn't see you lumbering along, that's my own shame." Tom said it coldly, but the oaf seemed to take no notice to the insult.

"Alright Tom, I'll cya." He walked toward the door with a large book that looked extremely tiny in his hands.

 _He's just stupid; literally half-human. I shouldn't blame him for his idiocy._

Yet Tom did blame him. He found himself suddenly wanting to hurt the boy named Hagrid for knocking him down as if he were a fly.

 _One problem at a time now… The oaf will probably get himself sent to Azkaban for trying to raise a dragon or the like soon enough._

MacNair was in a position where he clearly had seen Tom get bulldozed, but he had pretended not to notice.

"Hello MaNair, what are you reading there?" Tom asked in a friendly voice.

MacNair pretended to be startled, as though he was absorbed in the book and hadn't noticed Tom.

The boy showed Tom the page he was reading. There was a large, very detailed moving picture of a goblin cutting a wizards throat from behind.

"Exciting," Tom said as he watched the spray of blood from the wizard's throat.

"Bloody disgusting if you ask me." MacNair was already starting to get worked up, Tom could use that.

This interrogation would be easy and gentle. "Surely you don't mean the violence or blood, Macnair. Unless I am highly mistaken I believe it was you who slew that centaur last year." Tom paused to watch his expression, and was pleased to see a studied look of blankness. "That was rather impressive, the cover-up after, I mean. The actual deed did get the Headmaster's attention, which is never to be desired you know."

MacNair seemed a little alarmed that Tom knew. "Well… I suppose I should have known you would see through it…" He took a settling breath, then went on, "It wasn't like I set out to kill it, it got in the way of-"

Tom cut him off, "I do not care that it was done, or why you did it."

"Oh."

"Anyway, what do you mean, disgusting?" Tom inquired, tapping the book.

"I mean, you can't trust a single magical creature as far as you can throw them, and you can throw some of them pretty damn far. I know from experience." MacNair looked down and frowned.

"I imagine you are referring to your House Elf? What was his name?" Tom probed lightly.

"Oscar. Yes, his betrayal is what got me thinking about how we can't trust any of them."

Tom smiled. "Not unless you have put them under an over-powered Dark curse."

MacNair had a smile to return for that comment, but it faded. "I mean, really. Oscar was magically bound to my house above all, just because he came to Hogwarts doesn't mean that Dippet's ridiculous orders should take priority over my own."

Tom stood and listened, the silence would force him to continue.

"It was the elf's choice," MacNair said confidently. "They do have some wiggle room for choice, and Oscar chose the bloody school over me."

Tom frowned as though in empathy, but really he was disappointed. It sounded like the boy had a real bond with the creature, which was very strange to Tom. "You sound like you lost a friend." Tom tried to sound sympathetic when he said it. He never could tell if he pulled that one off properly.

MacNair was certainly insulted now, that was plain. "You think he was my friend? He was my servant, bound to me. I didn't lose a friend; I was played and betrayed by the creature!" He spat out.

Tom would have warmed up to MacNair at that statement, if he hadn't been so passionate about it.

"Listen, Walden. If you're interested in learning about animal betrayal, I have read a few good books that are related. I can come up with a list for you."

MacNair perked up. "Yeah, that would be great, Tom."

Tom didn't know which books would serve MacNair's interest best, but there were few that would serve his own if MacNair took them to heart. He idly wondered if he could set MacNair on Hagrid, but decided to get to the other topic of interest instead. "Let me ask you, what do you know of an apparent monster running around the school at night?"

MacNair shrugged. "I know there are a bunch of scared kids saying there's a monster."

"Do you believe it?"

MacNair shrugged again. "Sounds to me like somebody is having some fun. Or it's just a bunch of rumors. Remember how everybody thought that the Perks girl was crushed by the moving staircase?"

Tom simply said, "Oh, yes, Dippet did say she changed schools to Beauxbaton."

 _Though I have my doubts…_

Tom wasn't sure if MacNair was being completely honest, but it wasn't worth risking prying into his mind. If he detected it, some of the trust Tom had built with him would disappear.

 _If he was in on this affair, I expect he would have told me in order to get some advice._

Tom stood up and walked away without saying goodbye; MacNair didn't seem to mind.

As he left the library he heard a familiar voice coming down the hallway.

 _Well isn't that just perfect timing…_

David Monroe came around the corner with a girl on his arm; he was whispering in her ear and hadn't seen Tom yet. He briefly squashed a desire to run as cowardly, although he certainly wasn't interested in a confrontation. Usually the only way to avoid such with Monroe was to avoid him completely, since there was nothing about him that Tom could appreciate or respect.

He started walking towards the couple in order to make his way back to the common room.

David finally did notice Tom then and when he did he stopped short for a moment before putting on an overly enthusiastic smile. "Tom! You had us all so very worried; there were rumors that you had been taken off to be kissed by the Dementors!"

Tom had meant to keep this casual, but the mention of Dementors had rattled him a little bit.

When he spoke his voice was much colder than he had intended it to be, "You should know better than to listen to rumors, Monroe. Just this morning a gossiping nurse told me a rumor that you were caught in a storeroom with Alice Aubry the night before last. Yet here you are with Sam… Something… You see how unreliable rumors can be?" He finished with a dry smile and looked at the girl who was staring at him; Tom nodded to confirm his story to her.

The girl suddenly pulled away from David with a shocked look and stared through him.

"What? Don't listen to him, he's lying Sam!" David said rather pathetically as he looked at her shoe's.

The girl either had some common sense or Legilimency training, because she slapped David and ran off down the hallway, crying.

Tom smiled at that.

"Samantha wait, I can explain!" Monroe yelled after her, but she was gone. When David turned back to Tom he was surprised, he had never seen that look in the boy's eyes, but he recognized it, having seen it in his mirror too many times to count: Intent to kill. He was shocked beyond all telling, as Monroe never really seemed to take his _affaires_ seriously. Apparently the bloody fool actually gave a damn about this one; Tom could feel magic building in the air a tangible pressure in the hallway.

It had been stupid to think they could cross paths without some sparks flying; the boy just couldn't seem to help himself when it came to antagonizing Tom.

"Now David, surely you aren't thinking of doing something foolish?" Tom said in his most bored voice. "Foolishness would be you doing anything other than going along on your way."

"Would it be foolish, Riddle? It seems to me you are not quite yourself today…" It was almost as though heat was radiating off of Monroe now as starting to reach into his robes.

 _Of course, he senses I'm weak._ Tom started to feel magic flowing through the air towards Monroe like a light breeze.

If Tom had his strength he would have snuffed out Monroe's little ember, and shown him how to truly assert dominance, by blasting the boy through one of the schools ancient walls. The arrogance was too much for him. Of course, if he'd had strength, Monroe wouldn't have dared to threaten him, the bully.

Tom looked over David's shoulder and said loudly, "Hello! Professor Dumbledore! How are you?" The boy's hand froze in his pocket as he stopped to turn and look.

" _Accio_ boots!" Tom said quietly as he brandished his wand at David's feet.

The boots came flying off, pulling David's legs out from under him and causing him to crash down onto the floor. Tom dodged the incoming boots and swiftly moved forward as David was trying to get up. A swift kick to the sternum winded the boy and knocked him back flat on the floor. As he was gasping for breath Tom stomped on the boy's hand which was still clutching his wand and it rolled out across the floor.

In a smooth motion Tom turned and swooped down on David, pressing his own wand to the boy's forehead. " _Somnium_." The light faded from David's wide eyes as they closed.

If Tom had a little more power at the moment, he may have hovered David up to the high ceiling and stuck him there and put a silence ward over him, so people would walk past him all day and never notice him trapped and yelling for help.

If it wouldn't result in expulsion Tom would take Monroe's wand and snap it. There probably were ways around the detection charms the administration would use to see if it had been intentional, but nothing came to mind in the moment.

 _This will suffice for now, I suppose, just a little lesson, a prelude to the real lesson,_ Tom thought as he kicked the unconscious boy in the stomach.

There was no point getting into any real trouble at the moment, so Tom decided to put the idea aside for now and come up with something creative at his leisure. It would have to be something that Tom couldn't be blamed for and it had to go beyond simple pain or fear, something to truly scar the boy.

 _I always enjoy a chance to practice teaching lessons._


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter 11_**

Idly tapping his cheek, Tom was sitting at his desk, looking down at the pages of the old potions book.

 _That might do. If done correctly it should all seem very natural._

He committed the relevant text to memory before closing the book, then walked to his trunk, but hesitated to replace it in its hiding spot. Should he burn the book instead? The hidden compartment would only react to his own wand, true, but couldn't they take it from him? He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to look everywhere, if it came to light that such a plot existed. Assuming that he could really hide anything from Dumbledore was foolish, even back at full strength...

Yet, burning the book and vanishing the ashes seemed like a true crime. Silly things like blackmail or appropriate killings were irrelevant. Burning this valuable book would actually be a crime. There was little if any chance of ever replacing it, and even if he never truly needed the book again in his life, it was always better to be able to read a book than not.

 _I'm going to need an appropriate hiding place outside of the school for my more valuable things. I should have had one already, it's foolish to assume my wards can't be broken into._

Tom set the book down on his bed, considered, then set his wand down beside it. He then leaned forward and performed the appropriate rites that opened the hidden drawer of the trunk. It contained a couple of books and a few more questionable items: ward-breaking glasses, maps of a few of the known passages out of the school, his spare invisibility cloak, and one of those ridiculous fanged Frisbee's.

Tom looked at the Frisbee for a moment and let out a small chuckle. Anyone who did find the hidden compartment would not look twice, the toy was against the rules, and that was why it was hidden. Unless they happened to think about why Tom Riddle would have a novelty toy. Against the rules, yes, but not at all something Riddle would have owned. He pulled it from the drawer and held it up in front of his eyes.

 _"A wizard isn't born into the world possessing magic; rather he is born into a world full of magic to possess."_

Marwyn's writing. He let the forming incantation slip from his mind. There was magic all around him, the stones of the castle themselves heated the air with a faint tingle of magic.

Tom let go of the Frisbee as he closed his eyes, and it floated perfectly still in front of him.

 _Fire…_ There was fire in the room; the torches on the wall had inherent power that most people would never realize. The room seemed to heat up a few degrees at the thought.

Tom simply pictured ghostly translucent flames being drawn from thin air toward the toy, and suddenly he felt the heat.

He opened his eyes and smiled as he watched it burn up into nothing, as the device let out a quiet but pained scream. That made Tom laugh out loud, and he found himself with a new appreciation for whoever created the toy. Perhaps he should get another after all.

He returned his gaze to the apparent last drawer of his trunk. Closed his eyes briefly, and sensed nothing. Not being able to even detect your own enchantments was a very good sign; the concealment seemed secure. Then again, the school seemed secure; Tom knew all too well that security could be exploited.

He felt around the bottom of the drawer, pushing things aside to rub his fingers along the seams. Ignoring the texture of wood on his fingers he focused on any note of lingering magic he could find.

 _I can't even feel it; there is no way to open it. The contents will burn up if any serious tampering happens._

But was that really good enough? Tom had apparently been playing too fast and loose. It seemed he had Dumbledore's attention now, and leaving any sort of loose ends within his grasp would be a mistake.

 _No matter, nothing significant enough has happened to warrant this type of paranoia yet. There is plenty of time to cover my tracks once things are in motion._

Tom resolved to continue trusting in his hidden drawer for the moment, but to find a suitable place where he could hide anything he didn't want to have to destroy.

He grabbed his wand from his bed and pressed it to the bottom of the drawer, which gave off a faint blue glow as it lifted from place to reveal a much larger hidden compartment. He had already put Ancient Secrets back where it was accompanied by half a dozen other books with which he wouldn't want to be caught. Tom carefully placed Potions of Old into the compartment and took a quick mental inventory of what he had.

 _The contents could raise a lot of questions, and somebody who cares to investigate properly could put me into some hot water…_

Tom thought about what conclusions one might draw from the contents as he picked up the .45 semi-automatic pistol from the corner. He pressed the button to drop the magazine and check it to make sure that it was still fully loaded and hadn't been tampered with. He then pulled the slide back in one smooth practiced motion and caught the ejected cartridge.

Tom stood and spun on his heel, swinging the pistol towards the door. He stopped with the sights directly lined up with the center of the frame, and he pulled the trigger three times in quick succession, _click click click._

With a smirk he re-inserted the magazine and replaced it among the books, vials of multi colored potions, bracelets, rings and some other fun things that might prove useful.

After resealing the drawer, he took a seat on his bed. He planned to leave a couple hours after curfew, when all the boring people were confined to their dorms, to explore the school and whatever happenings may or may not be happening. He was fairly sure he knew what to expect: Burke and his goons, going about scaring children who wandered the halls, calling it an "epic prank". Unless having a number of scared children was a necessary component to some larger plot, having been called into question over something so mundane was contemptible.

 _What if it is a part of a larger plot? I hardly believe those morons are capable of stringing things together with any type of proper execution, but..._

It all seemed like harmless pranks, reports of children chased off by a terrifying monster with no actual attacks or even real sightings. That could be a good cover up for something else, something darker. The administration certainly wasn't taking it too seriously, so a competent Dark wizard could hide nefarious goings on with an innocent explanation. Of course, he was the only competent Dark wizard among the student body - not that everyone else wasn't Dark, just not capable of what he was seeing. On the other hand, the Professors were more powerful, but he didn't think any of them were Dark. But that could just be prejudice. If it was a teacher, any of them had more access to the school, and more clout to get away with -

Tom shook his head. Then suddenly it struck him, if it was indeed a professor, one of them could be trying to get people upset only to "resolve" the situation later, in a grand heroic fashion.

But who? Professor Merrythought? He had a slow-cooking plot to sabotage her reputation, but she hardly could seem more secure in her position. Still, on a quick skim of the staff, she would be the most likely to do something like that.

Then again, not everything was a plot orchestrated by some master player. As much as he wished life worked like that, more times than not he had to work to get himself involved in any interesting activities.

 _What if there truly is some monster running around the school at night?_

Tom had to at least consider the surface story. It seemed ridiculous; there were wards against that type of thing, he knew all too well. Any creature that could be dangerous to the students shouldn't be able to get in without alarm.

In theory. In practice, Tom had found quite a few loopholes in the wards, and he hadn't even considered exploiting the magical creature wards. Still, even if you could bring in something dangerous, why expose it by letting it scare children?

Tom wiped his face. Thinking about it was all well and good, but no one could enumerate every possibility in the short time left before he was going to go and actually find out for himself. He was feeling a bit more wary, now, though. Especially as he was probably as powerful as an average third year at the moment.

Tobo would surely say that his recovery was going remarkably well, all things considered. Tom himself was unsatisfied; he had given up his Muggle weight training because he didn't have the patience for the slow results. He certainly wouldn't give up his magical training, but it had to happen more rapidly.

After his Animagus transformation, he had nearly depleted himself, but it had rushed back like a tidal wave, boosting him to a new apparent plateau. It had been incredible for the short time he was wielding his might against a powerful foe. He would not be satisfied until he not only reached that peak again, but surpassed it.

Even if he was capable of transforming to a snake right now, it would do him no good. The actual effort of the first transformation had pushed him over some edge. There had to be other ways to expedite the process…

 _If I did get out of the castle and transform, I could hunt a unicorn… I'm not near death but it would likely restore my power._

Tom frowned and put the idea aside, he hardly needed more darkness start surrounding him at the moment. He could barely remember his brief scuffle with Monroe, since at the time he had hardly considered his actions, going off reflex, intuition.

"Oh, damn," he said softly. Monroe was a prefect, after all, what if they ran into each other tonight? After all, it would hardly be surprising to see Monroe bullying scared children. If only the boy wasn't so bloody infuriating! The hostility between them really had to come down to a more reasonable level, and that wouldn't happen if they interacted tonight. He would simply avoid him, no matter what. Anyone else who saw him, he'd just say that since he had slept most of the day, he was restless. _That should end any questions or line of conversation._

After exiting his room, Tom warded his door quickly and walked towards the common room. A single person remained in the large room; Tom mentally kicked himself for thinking Monroe was the only person who could press his buttons.

Bellatrix Black was sitting in a chair near the fire, holding a book. Facing Tom.

"Bellatrix. I had hoped that of all people, you would know better than to try and poke your nose in my business. Yet I cannot look at a mirror without seeing your head clumsily darting out of view."

Bellatrix tried to seem taken aback. "I was not waiting for you!"

"I never said you were waiting for me. But, why were you waiting for me, Bella?"

Bellatrix stood up, the glare of the fire reflected in her eyes. Except that she wasn't facing the flames.

"I thought you'd want to know, Monroe is in the hospital wing! His girlfriend cursed him somehow, and broke two of his ribs!" She exclaimed with brief enthusiasm before calming to watch Tom's reaction.

 _Well, I did kick him from a full sprint… I probably should have considered healing him a little. I can't believe he would degrade himself by saying that he was defeated by a small girl, when he could have said he'd stood up to Tom Riddle! He could have even had me brought in front of Dippet... He must be afraid of me. Of course he is, but these seem to be actions that say "I've had enough Tom, you win." Or, it's a feint. Does he plan to strike in some other way perhaps?_

Tom noticed that Bellatrix was still staring at him.

"Very good Bella, that is indeed humorous," he said, turning and walking away. After a few steps, he could tell Bellatrix was following him. He turned to her again and snapped, "Are you lost?"

Bellatrix's blank expression changed significantly and she sighed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that…" With that she turned and made her way towards the stairs.

 _Strange girl… Though I will need to make use of her soon, it's a bad idea but I will approach it differently this time. Leave no room for misinterpretation or error on her part._

Tom shook his head at the difficulty that would present. He pushed that thought aside and started out on his way.

 _If I was the average Hogwarts student trying to play shady games in the night I might consider the dungeons as an appropriate staging ground. I can also have a preliminary talk with Slughorn while I am down there. It will need to be done carefully, very natural and unassuming. I can't draw attention to the real question._

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Professor Slughorn leaned away from the pewter cauldron and wiped the sweat from his brow; it would do no good to let his fluids taint the work.

"Three turns widdershins…" he recited from memory.

"Seventeen seconds of simmering… fifteen, fourteen..." He counted down to zero, when he emptied a vial of crushed leaves into the mixture and mashed them in carefully with a special wooden fork.

* _Tap Tap Tap_ *

"One moment!" Slughorn shouted to the door behind him as he swirled the potion from the center outwards, counting nine turns. The potion turned from a pale orange to a thick pus-colored fluid. The Professor extinguished the flames, admired the potion for a moment, and then turned to go to his door.

"Oh, hello Mr. Riddle. I had heard you were ill, shouldn't you be in bed so you're prepared for classes tomorrow?"

The boy smirked at him. "Have no fear, sir, I'm always prepared for classes. Are classes prepared for me might be the better question."

"Ah hah hah!" Slughorn forced a laugh. The boy's arrogance was often amusing, and sometimes unsettling.

It was said that Tom had been exhausted from extensive study, so much so that he had missed classes today. Yet the boy looked more than fine. His mere presence seemed to dim the torches on the wall and cool the air, as though he drew power from it all.

Over his years of teaching and personally knowing many powerful wizards, Professor Slughorn had an intuition for which students would do great things. He knew that Tom Riddle was a student with unmistakeable potential.

"What can I do for you, ?" Slughorn asked, stepping from the doorway as Tom walked in.

Tom walked in a few paces and sniffed the air. "That is foul, Professor."

"Ah, yes it should be… You know, I think I burned out my nose long ago, Mr. Riddle." Slughorn sniffed the air and detected only the faintest odor.

"I haven't," Tom said, sounding near annoyed. The boy pointed to the far end of the room with his finger and swept his hand across to the door as though he was ushering somebody out. As he gestured, a moderate breeze carried all of the smoke and fumes out the door and down the hallway.

Slughorn blinked at that, and suddenly Tom's face was back to that of a calm and collected young man.

Tom walked over to the cauldron and looked in.

"Careful, Mr. Riddle!" Slughorn said as he reached out to draw Tom away. He hesitated, however, and let his arm fall back to his side.

"You don't want to get any of that on you, my boy!"

Tom observed the potion for a long moment and then stepped back. "No, I expect not… Just what are you up to, Professor?" The boy cocked his head curiously as he looked into the professors eyes.

"Ah… Well you see, that is a potion for-"

"An extreme case of near untreatable itchy boils." Tom finished for him easily.

Slughorn froze for a moment in fear. "Ha, ha well Tom, I guess I wasn't going to fool you by saying it was for growing hair… Even though the two are identical in smell, and close enough in color."

Tom waited a moment before speaking. "The length of your 'moment' before you came to the door was far too short for it to be a follicle regeneration potion. That final step is forty-four turns, and a three minute simmering. But the fire was out when I came in. "

Slughorn was taken aback. "Merlin save us! You really pieced it together from that?"

Tom smirked for a moment and then sighed. "I'd love to say yes, but that only occurs to me now. Truthfully, I am familiar with this potion, and I noticed the faint orange swirls, which appear infrequently along the sides."

"Oh." Slughorn replied, dazed.

"But I actually wanted to have a conversation with you, sir," Tom said before he turned away from the potion and took a seat on top of a desk at the front of the classroom. He gestured for the professor to take a seat at his own desk.

Professor Slughorn was happy to oblige, and avoid any questions about why he was brewing such a nasty potion on his off time.

"So Tom, what is it that I can help you with?" Slughorn pulled back his chair and took a seat at his large oak desk. He didn't fail to notice that he had to look up at the boy sitting on top of his own desk.

"Well sir, I spent today reading mostly, and I came across some interesting potions. Some of which I wouldn't believe existed, except for the fact that their creation seems plausible under the right circumstances."

Slughorn chuckled, "Ah yes, there are some curious ones." He leaned back and thought for a moment. "Felix Felicis comes to mind instantly. If we are to believe 'liquid luck' ever existed, then we are to believe that the potion literally created itself through sheer luck. One version of the tale has an earthquake knocking a certain ingredient off the shelf into a pot of poorly homebrewed fire whiskey. It then shook the ingredients together just right. Then, the would-be drunkard just happened to decide to use a special freezing charm on the potion and the fire in his kitchen."

He chuckled again. "He didn't understand the effects. He knew he was lucky, but he kept testing it in insane ways. They say he ran around for days chasing thunder storms. He would stand in the open as he watched lightning strike birds landing near him, or confused people who wandered over to ask him for directions to the quidditch world cup."

Tom's face was blank. "What do they say happened to him?"

Slughorn shrugged. "His luck ran out I suppose! He was struck by several bolts at once during one of his experiments. It would seem almost as though the storms were taking vengeance on being manipulated." That idea made him laugh.

Tom did not laugh; instead a serious look came over his face as he seemed to consider the idea for a moment. He then looked up. "That is a good one, sir, though I've heard of an even more interesting one. Very creative, the witch who made it was a genius. She managed to save her own life by creating it in a single week with nothing but knowledge and purpose."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I am familiar with this, Tom, do go on."

"Well sir, I hope you're not squeamish." He looked back towards the cauldron. When he looked to the professor again he had that smirk on his face again. "The potion does involve blood as the main component…"

Slughorn lit up at that. "Ah yes, now I remember. That tale is even more fascinating than the luck potion, because we know it to be true! It was a shame how it all turned out in the end, very messy affair…"

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Tom left the office feeling content with his plan; Slughorn had alleviated all of his concerns. Not only that, it had been good timing to walk in on him brewing illegal potions.

 _He is probably making all kinds of fun things for people with coin… Even if he ends up suspecting me because of that conversation, he knows that I am aware that he has some skeletons in his closet._

Even if he didn't get any clues as to what was happening after dark during his stroll, this had already been an extremely productive evening.

He had been walking for several minutes lost in thought, when suddenly he could feel somebody approaching around the corner.

 _They must be powerful if I can feel them when I'm this weak…_

Tom took a few steps back and moved into the center of the hallway. At the same time, he stretched his wrist back and forth a couple of times to loosen it up for a flawless wand-draw.

A girl came around the corner, a sandy haired 4th year by the look of it. She was briefly startled when she suddenly walked into Tom standing his ground, but the look passed and she seemed annoyed.

"What are you doing?" Tom put authority into his voice.

She flinched momentarily but regained her composure. "What are you doing? You're not a prefect…"

 _Well she obviously knows who I am; can't return the favor._

"No, that's David Monroe. He apparently was cursed into oblivion by a young girl in a hallway. Maybe it was you?"

The girl laughed at the accusation. "Sam didn't curse him! He just got her angry."

Tom wanted to smile at that. The girl could have easily turned Tom in; she had to know that it was his doing that put Monroe out of commission. She was at least smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

"I ask again, what are you up to at this hour? Miss…."

"Miss Brown."

Tom waited till she sighed and gave up. "I was going to say I have Dippet's permission, but I get the feeling that won't fly…"

Tom nodded in agreement.

"Look, I'm not causing trouble, I just have business outside the school, ok?"

Tom locked onto her gaze to see if she would flinch. Instead, in her eyes he found flashes of a young boy waiting outside the schools wards.

He blinked and the vision was gone; he hadn't really meant to probe her mind.

 _That came a little too easily._

The girl didn't seem to notice that Tom had just peeked into her mind. He was unsure what to make of her, so he decided to make nothing of her for now.

"Ok, ok. I don't really care what you do." He stepped aside and let her past.

Once she was a dozen paces away, Tom raised his wand, pointed at her boots and closed his eyes. He felt his magic flow out and embed itself in the fabric of the laces in her boots. They seemed to almost glow for a moment, but it faded as she turned a corner. She would never notice, but Tom could get a general idea of where she was tonight if he needed to.

The wards prevented student from tracking each other by all means of which Tom was aware. His magic wouldn't stick on to students themselves, or their wands (which would be the most effective way), or the clothes on their bodies. Yet the laces in their boots were fair game for some bizarre reason.

Tom put it down to a shift in style; the school boots probably didn't have laces in the start when the wards were set in the stones, simply because there's no use for laces in magical boots. Over the years however the style of clothing changed and started incorporating more things just for looks. Every time Tom thought he knew something about the schools wards he just found more questions, so he tried to not think about it too hard right now.

 _It works, that's all I need to know at the moment._

He continued on his way around the castle, working his way up. Since he had bumped into "Miss Brown," nearly an hour had passed without event. The girl herself had left the wards and not returned, as far as Tom could tell.

Tom was making his way up a staircase when he heard muffled sounds around a corner a couple of floors up. He started to sprint up the stairs, and he caught a glimpse of a giant shape hauling something behind him. It disappeared around a bend, but Tom could still hear strange noises and grunting.

Tom was three steps and one leap away from the landing when the staircase suddenly moved beneath him and started swinging around. He had too much momentum to stop so he kept on, leapt for the ledge, and missed.

As the floor came rushing to meet him, Tom realized he didn't have time to use any magic, so he simply decided to roll into the landing as best he could. He did make the roll, but into a wall, and at a high speed.

Tom had always liked the dark humor in the idea of the moving staircase killing that girl, but he hadn't actually believed it. Now he was certain there was a horrible conspiracy to hide how bloody dangerous this thing was.

 _One thing at a time now… First of all, what in Merlin's name is that oaf up to?_ Tom asked himself, as he slowly got up from the ground while wincing from the effort of it.


End file.
